It happens only for a few hours. Every few days, at very specific times of the year. It is difficult to say when it will arrive and when its here, its tough to say when it will disappear. There is a constant in it all, when it takes hold the effects are mystical.
The vastness of this piece of Africa becomes restricted and the usual sense of space is no longer. Dead trees, the statues of the bush, now have more depth than the silhouette they were the evening before. Character that is mysteriously emphasized by its simplicity.
The atmosphere is altered by it, a calmness that captivates. An expectation of the unexpected, when visibility is not only restricted by the bush but something more. A blanket of mist that swallows up the horizon and allows you to see only what it allows.
Shapes appear from the cloak that conceals. The herds that roam the clearings are mere outlines and the sun perseveres to make its first appearance.
As the mist slowly lifts the first rays filter though, softened by the haze. The rich morning light warms another winter’s day.
Written by Simon Smit
Photographed by Simon Smit and James Tyrrell