Wind tickles the trees, just a passing breeze, so I cover them in the brightest paints, close my eyes and wait...
Offshore a storm is brewing, sending canvas clouds strolling overhead, mopping up the world below.
A heaviness begins to weigh me down, the sky is no longer hungry, so I ease my eyes open...
Clouds now seem to be an angry Picasso, a drunk Pollock, a hopeless Hemingway story.
As the raindrops begin to fall the lightening cracks, the sky a clash of titans, as earth prepares for war...
Like a symphony, a cacophony of color, everything around me begins to get washed over.
Standing in the calm after the storm, the sun peeks out, a change happened that has never been seen before.
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