From: J. Forst
Category: Other stuff
Date: 01 February 2002
the wind blows down a council rubbish bin and lifts two pairs of my pants from their box and flying along the street, a woman smiles nervously with me as we wait for a bus under a swaying tree. the wind brings solidarity to stand straight, like all extreme weather it is more fun than quotidian grayness. the house creaks and will not survive if the gale turns hurricane. they will not blow this city into the channel though the island may sink as the seas rise. the wind is not cold but strong enough to make the eyes water.
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