As I sit in front of the sky, it’s clouded. Lightning strikes silently against it. I feel a chill

breeze, hear a dull sound of rumbling, soon which turns into chaotic thundering. I feel the wind

dancing along my goosebumped skin. I smell the wet sea drenched full of seaweed. I taste the

air, the stale bitterness of it. Yet again the thunder deceives me, for it feels so close, but in reality,

is so far away. Blue against the horizon, a pale-ish grey of clouds, until that forsaken time when

thunder strikes again. Soft grass, soft sand, collecting texturized memories between my bare toes.

There’s another sound north, another cloud, another crack - Thunder - she’s expanded across the

sky, and I intensely wait for more. It’s getting darker, and nightfall will be here soon enough.

While the strikes of light continue, I notice the world around me is dry. Thunder and her hefty

clouds looking down from the sky. Usually, rain and thunder go hand in hand, but not today,

today is reserved for the clouds and heavy sounds alone. And here I sit idle, to watch it all

unfold.