Foto di Alinson torres su Unsplash
It’s windy—really windy. Gusty. It isn’t cold, but it gets inside your clothes, creeps up your back, and you feel it at the nape of your neck. Let’s go; soon the waves will rise, and the strip of sand will disappear.
I’m out in front, showing the way. Sometimes I turn around and say to them: “Come on, guys—it’s windy here.”
Caption: Sharp Wind.
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