They start a great rushing noise somewhere above you or behind you. It grows and draws near; when you face it you can trace its madcap rush down the hillside as it sends the flattened tops of the trees into furies. In a split second it is upon you, widening your eyes, yelling in your ears, and catching you up and pushing you away. It lasts one symphonic moment, and then the receding eddies are left to tug you each in its own vain direction. The great mountain furies forever brew more and stranger winds to hurl down the valleys.
Friday, March 26, 2010
The Winds
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awesome work Chris, some of your best short pieces came from the chile experience... its been really fun to read them! david
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