There was a time when I wake up early to chase the fog. Morning fog moved fast through hills and small town, and it seemed like a sea, covering suddenly lower valleys with white waves.
I took these pics in Levizzano (MO), a small town in Emilia Romana (Italy), in december 2015. The fog often covered the lowland for many kilometers, only disappearing on higher hills.
I waited for the sun, its low light gave profundity and depths to fog ‘waves’.
“Waterfall of light, snow lake, ragged cloth taken out of the laundry, laid between the bones of the mountains, torn from the hands of a giant, the fog is an organic thing, it has its time, when it is slow it feed the earth. If fast, it goes up the slope like the avalanche spreading on the opposite sides of the valley. He steals from sight the old woods, cuts the villages in pieces. With the sun, it appears to us like the clouds from the plane, like the world from the top of the mountain.”
(“Cascata di luce, lago di neve, cenci e stracci appena usciti dal bucato, posati tra le lische delle montagne, strappati dalle mani di un gigante. E' una cosa organica la nebbia, hai suoi tempi, quando è lenta nutre la terra. Se veloce risale il pendio come la valanga che si spinge sui versanti opposti alla valle. Trafuga i vecchi boschi, taglia in due i paesi. Con il sole ci appare come le nuvole dall'aereo, come il mondo dalla vetta della montagna.”)