I love fog. I think it makes everything look beautiful.
On Saturday morning, the 24th, I parked in front of Moore Norman Technology Center, turned my hazards on, then crossed the street to get a few pictures.
I drove back down Franklin Road, getting more pictures along the way. I parked my car in a closed off driveway right off the road, and crossed the street. Cars drove by me, and at first I felt a little self conscious. But I remembered that they weren't the ones getting these awesome pictures, I was.
I remembered the creepy abandoned house that I drive by sometimes. It was further down on 24th ave, so I got back into my car and drove. I kept my window rolled down, and the chilly air hit my face and ruffled my hair.
As I parked in the clearing right next to the house, I felt like I was intruding. All of my instincts told me to leave, because this wasn't my house. But I was so intrigued at the same time. The conditions were perfect, I couldn't pass this up. With it's chipped paint, wide open front door, and boarded up windows, the eeriness and solidity made my brave little venture an exciting one.
Across from the house is a somewhat big field, with a big building behind it. The backyard behind the house had tires, trash, and tall grass. Further on, behind a wall of trees, there is a set of railroad tracks. My fingers were red and freezing, and the damp air made my hair stiff.
I timidly stepped further into the backyard, and closer to the house. I wanted to so badly to walk up to the open door and step inside. But my fear for what might be inside kept me back.