It’s a wild and turbulent day: rain, gusting winds, periods of sunshine, periods of shadow. There is upheaval and anxiety and confusion in the weather and so, too, in myself. We are kindred. I am wary of people lately, sometimes exhausted by them, preferring the company of books and writing, and silence, and of the elements, and the moon, and the faint hum of the city I live in, and of the life and death forces always pulsing through. I feel myself curling up, retreating, keeping open only to my heart’s rhythms within. I imagine running away. In my daydream, it’s always to the north coast of Scotland, to a small house by the sea. I see myself walking out each day in driving wind and rain, staring out at the tumultuous ocean, on the edge of the human world. Alone, but never alone.

From 100 Days: The Beauty of Brevity. Word prompt: kindred. Unlike the rest of these posts so far, this one is today’s. Lots of weather blowing through.