Madness in great ones must not unwatch’d go.
- Hamlet 3.1
Then I looked up, and the fog was rolling in again. Never make it out of SFO, not as the clouds spilled into the bowl of the town.
The memories run deep. Still, watching clouds and fog spill over the mountains reminds me of scenes from Far West Texas and Southern New Mexico as the mountains would be capped by clouds, or, in a more interesting arrangement, the clouds spilled over from one side to next, like a bowl tipped on its side, the milky clouds starting to pour out.
Still, following up?