Microscopical sparks fly around following the fast reel retreat of the fishing rod... orange and grey, all sails are downed... white and blue, the rudder is strongly turned; while she's hit by the first wave, the boat faces a different kind of horizon... black and black.
A wind gust tries to fix my hair, the sensation of one miligram of water on my hand, a drop of water falls on the glass of my watch and breaks into five... millions of drops of water wait to fall on me.
A breath of wind plays with the thorns of a wired fence fallen to the ground, a highway of ants connects two trees, nothing of this can be seen from twenty thousand feet above the ground; from this height... it takes a bit over a minute for me to touch the ground together with billions of raindrops.
A colour begins to be distinguished, the reflexion of light on the wave that left in its path a destroyed vessel, the first attempt of a woman to cross the Pacific and the world with one of the most beautiful tales - July 8th 1976
Five minutes of rain way below expectations, the remains of a twenty year old storm, the last outbreak of the most powerful storm - October 23rd 2006
I race the rain to the ground, i can't keep up, in front of me billion of raindrops hit the earth simultaneously with the power of ten nuclear bombs. The water swaps places with the cloud dust which has risen above the plain... October 24th 2006, the most powerful storm... in my imagination...
