086: Mist on the Water

The light shimmers in the mist like a golden will-o'-wisp. Soundlessly your rowing boat glides forward, grey on the teal coloured water. The oars lay untouched. You draw your cloak closer around yourself. Water pearls on it, cold against your naked fingers. Not even a breath of breeze brushes your face. A droplet drips from your hair. It lands on the bridge of your nose and slips down to your lips. All is still. It smells sweetly of wet pines and rotting reeds. Your only guide is the lantern in the prow.

Written by: Katrine H. (@katrinehjulstad on Instagram)