Above the Foggy Bridge (Long Description - 200 words)

Same morning. Same fog. Different perspective.

After shooting "The Foggy Bridge" from the Marin Headlands, I wasn't done. The fog was too good. Too thick. Too rare. I drove up to higher ground—way higher—to see what the scene looked like from above.

From up here, the entire bay became abstract. The Golden Gate reduced to a dark silhouette cutting through white. The city floating like it wasn't attached to anything. Just buildings suspended in fog, defying physics.

What struck me was how small everything looked. That massive bridge—the one people drive across every day, the one that defines the city's skyline—just a thin line disappearing into nothing. And San Francisco, with all its density and ambition and overpriced real estate, just shadows on clouds.

Perspective matters. From the Headlands, the bridge felt monumental. From up here, it felt temporary. Like the fog could swallow it completely and the world would just keep turning.

I made this frame and climbed back down. The fog burned off by afternoon. The bridge went back to being visible, solid, real.

But for a few hours that morning, the whole city was just a suggestion.