South Atlantic Cyclone Headed our Way
While Moe and I were absorbed in the intricate pathways, decor, and artwork of the as-yet-unfinished structure (I think it was a work of art in continual progress), we happened to step out onto a terrace and were literally almost slapped into the Bay of Whales by a sharp gust of wind.
Whereas it had been a cloudy, windy day, it was now a veritable seething, frothing tempest. The wind was blowing M’s scarf horizontally. I have a picture.
Literary Reference Alert. For those of you who are bored or annoyed by more than 4 lines of literature by a famous writer, please skip the following.
If you would know the age of the earth, look upon the sea in a storm. The grayness of the whole immense surface, the wind furrows upon the faces of the waves, the great masses of foam, tossed about and waving, like matted white locks, give to the sea in a gale, an appearance of hoary age, lustreless, dull, without gleams, as though it had been created before life itself.
Joseph Conrad
This is exactly what it looked like.
“The sea was dark with grey foam billowing in all directions. It twisted and hissed like the muscles of a prehistoric leviathan.” Me.
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