Morning fog by the reservoir
The fog had not lifted by seven. Everything past the second lamp post simply stopped existing, and the path felt shorter because there was nothing ahead to walk toward.
I brought the old rangefinder and took eleven frames. Most will be grey on grey. That is fine; the point was to be out early, before the joggers and the noise.
Things I noticed
Herons stand completely still in fog, as if they are waiting for it too. Sound travels strangely: a car door half a mile away felt close enough to touch.