A thick fog, stained green by the fluorescent glow of a companionless street light drapes the Michigan Central Train Station in Detroit. It is very rare that I make such drastic and noticeable adjustments to my images. In this instance, I opted to as it better conveyed the mood we all felt while shooting on this November morning. After being on the town until about 3 in the morning I had received a phone call at about 6 AM demanding that I look out the window. Due to the fog I didn't see much of anything. I was tentative to roll out of bed, I had never shot in such conditions before. Quite honestly, I didn't see the purpose, but somehow found my way to the meetup location and off we went. I arrived at Roosevelt Park, delirious from lack of sleep, uncertain, and hung over to all hell. The sky, the grass, the fog, everything had a sickly olive green hue to it while the street lights clocked in their final minutes before sunrise. Feeling all sorts of uncomfortable and generally preferring to photograph the station from the inside out, I began to shoot on autopilot, then left for Belle Isle thinking that this initial trip was a waste. It wasn't until I reviewed this and the other photos later in the week that I began to really appreciate photographing in the fog; there was something soothing about it's disregard for past and future. That street lamp, if I may personify it, did not care that the world around it was decaying, that it's foundation was eroding, or that it may be the urban equivalent to a tree falling in a forest when no one is around. It's purpose in that moment was to light the street, to burn until it could burn no longer.