I woke up and it was milky dark outside. Nothing unusual for it to still be dark on a January morning but the darkness was not black but milky. It was already nearly 9 a.m. and outside the darkness had left to make way for the day. But the sun wasn’t able to reach my window. No wonder since the fog was so thick and persistent, that you nearly felt like you were being wrapped into cotton. In the beginning I still found it entertaining but after a while my level of discomfort increased. It felt like you were losing your sense of time and space.

I went to yoga, that always helps me. Yoga brought my inner condition wonderfully into equilibrium, but the fog unfortunately stayed. Not even a small, weak ray of sunlight managed to make its way to me.

But the tart also didn’t manage to make the thick fog disappear. I felt like I was suffocating. I thought to myself that I needed to get out of there, somewhere up high to see the free, open sky. I got changed and thirty minutes later I was above fog level. Below me I saw a white, thick and impenetrable ceiling and up here, there was the bright blue sky and sunshine. I took a stroll in the sun and enjoyed the light and the warm sunrays on my skin. The effect on the soul was priceless.

With the sunset I reluctantly went back down into the valley. I drove through the fog and was caught back in darkness. But after all I had drank a couple of hours-worth of sunlight. In the evening I observed the torch parade in the city. It was organised really well but quite ghostly in the beginning as there wasn’t a sound of music. Only later did they add the tambours. It felt majestic. Light in the darkness.

I knew that Sunday would be the same, the only solution was to go back up high, for the love of the soul.