It may happen any time, anywhere, in a passing moment: a halfheard whisper reaches your ears, a voice both familiar and strange, calling your name. You turn to look and noone is there. A faint melody seems to drift through a crowded room, eerie and unsingable, cutting through the noise and the clamour to seize your attention and then it is gone. You feel the summer breezes caress the back of your neck, tingling down your spine, although it is not summer and there is no wind. The mists are close to you, friend, and they beckon if only you can find the potential within you to see them, bend them, part them. They hover around each of us, calling out in the voices of those we love, endlessly seeking the foundations of reality. And once in a great while, someone finds a path opening before him, the mists responding to an overwhelming need.

Website: http://www.mistwalker.org/