I was in a place where the wind cocooned my head, limbs and body like a giant spinning, unforgiving frenzy. Air was charging into my ears and whipping the fabric of the raincoat against my cheeks. It heaved and pushed the water, forward and upward, roaring out platoons of white waves that swamped the length of the shore. It even pierced the thin layer of water on the sand, impregnating it with galaxies and galaxies of bubbles. They obeyed the wind and performed their wild orbital dance, alone, in clusters, slaves to air and gravity.
On the cliff edge, arms out like a bird, eyes shut.
If I let my legs collapse, the wind will keep me standing won’t it?
If only I were made of paper.
Would you like to be the first people to try our updated Ice-Cream Tapas?
Drawing your arm does not deepen your understanding of it.
At least Spring is coming now. I can feel it.
The forecast is in its twenties, just like me.