The Fog

The Fog.

Oh my. This isn't the romantic fog you read about in novels, where delicate wisps curl tantalizingly around trees offering a now-you-see-it, now-you-don't peek.

No. This is a thick, heavy fog that squats sluggishly on the streets obliterating everything before and behind you. It muffles the sound of oncoming traffic. Headlights offer only a feeble glow.

I'm lucky that Hans washed my dirty headlights last night after we returned from a presentation Elvine was giving at the Lodge. My headlights were already dim, covered as they were by days of road spray. It's generally light when I leave and come back so I hadn't noticed it. But last night in the dark… well, it was still dark.

I can't wait for the clear, sunny skies of New Zealand!

Comments

Anonymous said…
It's foggy here too. Anon
Anonymous said…
My god! It's everywhere! Hey, Stephen King once wrote a seriously spooky short story called The Mist...

*cue creepy music*

(Dotter)
bounce said…
i love your imagery

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