Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Desert Shield?

Worst sandstorm I've seen yet is going outside.

The world is yellow. I can't see more than a block. There's grit all over me: blown into my eyes, my nose, my ears, my mouth. My hair has a nice cap of tan-gray.

During a sandstorm, the world goes eerily quiet. People aren't in the streets, cars aren't in the streets. You hear the wind; you hear the branches snapping off of trees. Sounds that you do hear are oddly magnified in the quiet. A lone car horn made me jump, so did a branch crashing.

It's keeping up, so I'm going to hunker down in the library and hope that I don't get hungry before it ends.

Because God knows the open-air shops won't be open.

(There are, of course, a few groups of boys sitting outside on campus during this. Their number has, however, decreased steadily in the 90 minutes it's been storming. Boys are boys everywhere. Sorry, gentlemen.)

1 comment:

Dan said...

Good work, men. Keep representing. Don't let nature win.