“Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness.”

I have fallen ill. No doubt due to the massive ammounts of stress Ive been carrying this month. I have finally succumbed to that which plagues me. My body has given up and gived me the big finger once and for all. Maybe its trying to remind me that although my financial woes carry heavy burden, my health is what I should be thankful for. Or maybe it is just shutting down completely and this is my final phantasmagoric hour before hitting the big sleep of eternity. My throat burns. My eyes water. My pores ooze. My nerve endings humm and pulsate like a massive twisting collective of intertwined snakes.

The past three days on this island have been thickly coated by what Im told is referred to as ‘the marine layer’. A thick grey wet fog envelops the city from dusk till dawn.  It lingers above us throughout the day blocking any view of the sun let alone blue sky. The feeling is akin to being underground save for lack of fresh air. Ive heard tales that this ‘marine layer’ sometimes brings with it certain ungodliness. What pestilence lurks in that opaque covering overhead? What sinister doom creeps up the walk each evening as the moon rises? Each morning as I leave home the evil fog lingers on the grass of the front lawn and in the bushes and flower boxes lining the street. It wets my face as I walk and lurks through my hair leaving it dull and lifeless.

Has the fog come and brought with it such ill fate Ive been suffering this past month? Or is it my ill fate itself that has called the fog out from its lair far out in the briny shores.

Like all things, this to shall pass. I know I know. But to what extent of emaciation will I be left in for the aftermath? For now Im cooping myself up inside to sit quietly avoiding the fog and awaiting the inevitable payback from the bank of karmic retribution.

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