There are few things in the world as eerie as the coast of Sussex when the fog rolls in. Like walking inside of a cloud, simultaneously wet, gray. Dickensian even, depending on where you live. Shimmering, murky shapes emerging out of the mist as you get close, not with a fair amount of warning, just enough to keep you on your toes, ever cautious, ever nervous.
I took my camera out on this day last week because after waking up to another foggy dawn emerging, I decided I wanted to get some shots on my walk to the station. The old village section of Shoreham can be particularly creepy, as you can imagine. I was running for my train by the end-but the fog is just so otherwordly, I wanted to try to catch it.
There’s a river there, you just can’t see it.