The fog came in overnight and didn’t leave. By morning the park had become something else entirely — the oaks reduced to silhouettes, the path narrowing into white, the world beyond the next lamppost a matter of suggestion. But the lights stayed on. They always do.
There’s something quietly stubborn about a lamppost burning in daylight fog. It isn’t needed, exactly, and yet it earns its place — a warm anchor in a cool, dissolving world, proof that someone thought ahead, that the city anticipated mornings exactly like this one.
Shot in 2025 at Forsyth Park on one of Savannah’s characteristically atmospheric early mornings, this image is about the small, steady things that hold a place together when everything else goes soft and indistinct.
Available as a matted print, canvas, or metal print.
