The wind today is so strong, just yesterday it had pulled out trees from their roots and blown away large trucks across highways as effortlessly as if they were toys.

I came to visit, but I won’t stay long. I search for words, but there are none. No tears this time either. Just the loud vibrato of the wind, penetrating my jeans and bringing cold to my bones.

The flowers I brought for you I lay down gently, knowing they’ll soon be sacrificed to the violent grasp of wind.

Who is to say you are not the wind?

The last day before the winter – Photography by Anka Zhuravleva

Alien, alienated. That's me.

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