There is a weird wind that has been following me lately. Its howl sounds like the written word. It smells like a reckless storm over salty waters. It's always at my back and when I gesture outwards with my hands the wind curls out in little gusts, which gets inconvenient and downright embarassing when I'm inside around a lot of paperwork.
People look me in the eye more now, and they watch me warily. They ask me what's up with my wind and I just shrug and the shrug blows my hair like some melodramatic Gothic romance and my gesture seems more ominous than nonchalant.
And so I went out to the beach to make sense of the wind, and it grew more fiercee and precise, little whips and curls and patterns. The weird wind made artwork in the shifting sands, and some part of me that needs to see patterns in things started to see sigils in the wind's trails. Cuneiform? Assyrian writing? I can only hope.
And so I went to the retail store and bought ten kites, and then I lifted my shopping cart high up above the yellow lines so I could sneak it out into the roads, so I could release all the kites at once as my own private roadside sailboat, to send me wherever these strange insistent winds want me to be.
But before I do that, I decided I should let you know.
Weird wind. Weird! Wind!