I never truly experienced fog until we moved to San Francisco. I’d often wake up in the morning thinking that it was just another grey and cloudy day, but in reality, we were still covered by a blanket of fog. As the day moved on, the sun would slowly “burn” away the fog, and the chill of the morning would disappear, leaving a clear blue sky and the warmth of the sun. But right near the Golden Gate Bridge, the mist would often linger, enveloping the city in a sea of fog. I still find it exciting whenever we cross over the bridge, and it is completely immersed in fog. Like kids at an amusement park, waiting for our turn to enter the tunnel of the unknown — watching the cars in front of us drive into an abyss of nothingness.