Violent Weather

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          I love violent weather.  I love the storm.  It is what I grew up with.  I would watch the lightning, under shelter by the door, or outside in a small pocket of protection.  I would go outside and wander barefoot.  I would step down the street, the water rushing past my feet, feeling contact with nature.  Afterwards, I would come home, and feel the water of a hot shower on my back.  I always felt my world was a violent storm, and seeing a real one made me feel cosmically at home.  This was the world I was adapted to.  Other people would go inside, and I would be protected by the violence of the storm.  This was my element.  People would hurt me, but not the storm.


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