It's raining as I write this.  Some of you know that I was in the military.  But you may not know that my unit had a reputation for dawn raids.  A boat, a helicopter or C-130 would deliver us somewhere and our small unit would have to march several days to get to the actual location, where just before dawn, we would strike. When the action was over, we would scuttle off into the mist as the dawn sun arrived.  Somehow, there was always mist.  And the mist signified the beginning of the end of a long ordeal, hard to imagine now but back then I thought it was fun. 
Now whenever I encounter mist, I get a strange sense of melancholy, relief and joy, an unusual but intoxicating cocktail of emotions. I can't help myself, it's a personal thing.  Since then, I've made many new memories in the mist as well, like when I once tried (and failed) to start a fire in the cold and damp by the Alazani River #35, each image in this new series for me is tinged with the same feelings like it's hardwired into my DNA now.
Prints that form part of this new collection are #20, #28, #35, #46 (all still available).
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