Into the Fog

The former church tower, close to my home (a photo I took earlier this week)

A few days ago, I took a photo on a Dutch sea embankment, capturing white stripes fading into the mist. Through the haze, a church tower rises alone - all that's left of a village the North Sea took long ago. The rest is fog and silence. That image stays with me today.

Tonight, across the Atlantic, Americans are living their last evening before Trump's inauguration. I wonder how they're spending these hours. Are they walking in nature too? Reading books? Meeting friends? Or just sitting quietly, trying to make sense of tomorrow?

It's no small irony that Trump takes power on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. King once spoke of "the deep fog of misunderstanding" that divides us. He knew about uncertainty and fear. He also knew that sometimes it needs to be dark enough to see the stars.

A still from the ladybug video (photo: see notes).

This past week, I've been sharing small moments of beauty online: a ladybug opening its wings to fly, cranes soaring over Dutch tulip fields, and wild horses running through sea spray in the Camargue. People respond to these images more than ever before—thousands instead of dozens. Maybe we're all looking for something pure right now, something true.