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The wind grabbed at my hair so violently that even the tiniest wisps stung like little whips in their medusa-like craze. They predicted 40 MPH gusts that day and, as usual, I was underdressed for the occasion.
I could hear the wind coming, the rustling was like static all around me. When it was about to strike, the sound amplified quickly, suddenly whooshing past my ears. The cold easily cut through my clothes, stinging my skin. The few clouds rolled in and out of the sun’s path, briefly chilling me further.
When I couldn’t take it anymore I got into my car. Shielded from the wind, and baking in the sun, it was the perfect break room to warm up and scope out my next shot.
This is what I think of as the perfect storm. Enough force to intrigue me and enough sun to make all the stormy discomforts dissipate quickly.
What are these numbered posts all about? Read the introduction to my Photo & 100 Words project and find out!
