Neither here nor there

Is the island appearing or disappearing? Emerging from fog or being swallowed by it? This is the question morning mist poses—the moment exists in both directions simultaneously. The treed island floats in layers of blue-gray fog, half-visible, half-gone, caught between presence and absence. Above, trees define themselves against clearing sky. Below, fog erases shoreline, water, any sense of grounding. This is transition made visible: not the before or after, but the during—when something exists in multiple states at once, neither fully revealed nor fully hidden.