When I pulled in to the farm this morning, the air was thick with fog. The fog made everything look fuzzy. It was like I was looking through the lens of a camera that was covered by a shear nylon stocking.
Even though I was sure that I was not observing the world through a nylon stocking. I got so worked up that I became really hungry. So, I dragged out a prosciutto from the aging room and pulled off its cheesecloth clothing. Then I tidied it up by scrubbing off the mold from its skin and cutting off areas where the fat had turned rancid and made myself a proper breakfast.