Time stands still in the fog. With all modern points of reference obscured, the river is ageless, static and ghostly. The spirits of the foreshore rise up in the mist, just out of sight. Through the swirling whiteness a medieval fisherman pegs his fish traps to the riverbed, a Victorian scavenger wanders barefoot through the mud, and a Georgian shipwright checks the hull of his newly built ship. On the river, invisible galleons and sailing barges glide past, wherries are carried swiftly downstream on the retreating tide, and a phantom paddle steamer pushes through the currents. Thames fogs are quite literally the mists of time. They are daydreams manifested, swirling visions of the past.
A woman searches for what's left of the past, dumped in a river over the course of centuries, bringing her finds to life through both imagination and research, documenting her journey as she goes along.