Some people like snow, they like its white and flawless, some people like dew, they like its crystal clear, and I love the fog alone, love its unpredictability, love its confusion.

Before the dawn of the morning bell, the milky white fog was like a huge net, covering everything in the world. Clusters, wisps, swirling in the flowers, converging and condensing in the mountains and rivers. Ethereal, entwined, like flowing clouds, moistening the earth, bathing in green mountains, wiping green trees, showing motherly care.

When I get up in the morning, walking on the cold and silent path, the fog is boundless, and my heart is also boundless. In this morning mist-filled world, the first thing I feel is a burst of coolness, and this fog stimulates every cell in the body. The fog was confused, and he couldn't see the road clearly, and he couldn't see if someone was coming towards him. Everything around seems to be still immersed in sleep, the vast universe, only I am groping for the direction. The fog grew thicker, constantly surging and rolling, and the more confused I became, the more I had to find directions. I tried to use my hands to clear the clouds, but I couldn't touch them, and I could only feel a little coolness. If you can't stand the cold, you can only yawn coldly, and if you can't do it well, you have to wrap your coat tightly and shiver. It's just that the clothes are also damp. Not to mention, this fog is more capricious than drizzle, take advantage of your inattention, secretly rest on your clothes, and take a walk by the way. Squinting at the sky, it was foggy, looking down at the earth, only faintly seeing his own footsteps. The further you go, the more chilling it becomes. Hoping to be lucky enough to meet someone who was traveling the same way, he opened his mouth to call, but his throat seemed to be stuck in the rain and mist, and he couldn't make a sound. A crisp birdsong came to my ears, so I stretched out my hand, but I couldn't get rid of the clouds, so I couldn't see the birds, and I couldn't touch anyone. I have no choice but to give up, it seems that there are some roads that are destined to be walked alone.

In fact, life is a journey in the fog. In the days shrouded in "fog", you will feel lost and scared, but you must not panic and believe that the "fog" is not forever and that it will dissipate sooner or later.

During the foggy journey, the cold will inevitably blur the eyes, and the cold will inevitably invade the soul. At this time, we must polish our eyes, cleanse our hearts, pour out the fear in our minds, and replace them with strong optimism. Take every attack of air conditioning as an inspiring medicine, and take every wrong step as a lesson for rebirth after the catastrophe. Trapped, freed, satisfied, and then lost, hesitant, unswerving, and finally able to clear the clouds and see the blue sky. Since it is his own life's journey, he is destined to face the clouds and fog lock alone in order to see the bluest sky.

"Alone" does not mean that you can never accept anyone's help, if you are thirsty, you can still ask for a glass of water to drink, if you meet people with the same heart, you can also walk side by side, but many times, you have to rely on your own perseverance and unyielding.

I can't imagine how ordinary it would be if there was no more fog in life. I'm glad I love fog, I love it, I love it, it's unpredictable and confusing. If you want me to say, this person should walk in the morning fog and enjoy the fun of chasing dreams.

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