THE FOG HOUSE
Deep in the north of wales a blackstone cottage remains undisturbed since the 1960’s.
Settled between isolated hills and cold marsh rivers, this house was once a home to a small family who kept to themselves between the hills. Ingrid and her husband Edward herded sheep and walked the icy rivers around the cottage. We walked for miles to find the house between the hills of north wales. It was cold with the essence of fog stalking behind the remains of cobblestone walls and sheep skeletons. The trees were shadows of their former selves. They could no longer breathe the air that was once given to the beautiful countryside. I found myself almost being devoured between the marsh that was protecting the house from ever being seen. It was built with the blackest of stone. Every window was sealed with metal to keep the light from going inside. Rain was quietly coming down from the eerily dark sky that sounded similar to the echoing of voices in the distance.