Makes my skin shiver – as I recall dropping through the misty blankets, the ground jagged left and right. Now the green grass and brittle black trees lie beyond in a straight line. The mist disguises my whereabouts, and imagination takes me back there. Behind a truck, a combi a SLK wanting to be in front – Longing to be home, Africa – where the earth is alive with coarse diversity. Now, only the familiar lick of the mist as it drifts across my skin.