The world is covered in mist this morning. It suits my mood. I feel wrapped in mist, disjoint, disjunct from the world this mor ning. It is partly the nap and the two Benadryl I took between last night and this morning, this I know . But it is more than simply the drugs and sleep that skews my vision toward the surreal. It is the dreamlike knowledge of my walk through a half-waking world of mist and shadow - it is that which whispers tome that I am a fey and changeling child now, one I have not been for some time. It is the chill and foggy spring of the morning that has corrupted me; no failure of my own. I am mist, and washed in mist am I.