The wind blows like a man possessed lashing out at the slightest provocation, wreaking havoc with dust and eyes, running head first into all oncomers.
A barrage of manic force, unsteady in reason yet sure of its task.
Intention is quick to seek shelter, reason not far behind. I wonder what will be the first to go.
Posted by pike at January 28, 2005 03:45 PM