It is like doing the splits on a cactus that turns into a chainsaw on the weekends. Or feathers tickling your guts and stomach at first, then it’s that unbearable feeling of nostalgia mixed with pain that leaves scars. It’s like pursuing a grey falcon.. a rare moment, but without any proper equipment it’s relentless, pointless and restless. It’s rain, heavy, feeling every creek and river of emotion inside of you. Rushing the wave against the rocks and earth it it comes to a stand still calm frozen in the eye of the storm not knowing if it’s over or just begun.