Scale and distance were indeterminable. There were no shadows or waymarks. Even gravity felt unreliable that day: slopes and fall-lines could only be inferred by the tilt of blood in the skull. We traversed the plateau slowly for a mile and a half, each of us in a luminous pocket of mist, and when I looked left and right at my companions they appeared to be flying, borne aloft in soft white space. When at last we descended out of the mist, the Highland landscape was startling again.
Pictured: Dornstetten, Germany, December 2010
“This is a factory close to my home that makes packaging. The mist made it look suddenly different from usual—spooky”
