Why do storms fascinate me so much?
Maybe because they used to frighten me. Maybe because I am soothed (weirdly) by the sound of the wind and the rain and the thunder. Saying that, however, I think I would HATE storms if I didn't live in a cozy little *dry* apartment. Though I do have an urge to go and wander in the weather.
I think I like storms because I am in awe of their utter power, and ethereal beauty. Poetic, huh.
There is a large one snapping and cracking high above my head at this very moment, the wind and rain lashing against the windows, roads, and trees.
The wind howling low and deep, carrying the coarse rumble from their source, vibrating through the soles of my feet into my center.
I like to sit on a balcony or at a window, looking into the night, the lightning burning into my retinas in white, red, and blue. Like an old 3D movie.
I like to see the rivulets of rain, racing each other to the windowpane.
I like to feel the floor shudder after every bright flash of light, and see the night skyline illuminated for the briefest of seconds, as if day had lent its light to the storm.
I like to hear the sounds of whooping and amazement from the children of the neighbourhood, muffled inside their houses.
I like the feeling of safety and security, warm and dry, guarded by the thunder.
I like storms.