Shortly before the shit hit the fan, we went out for a walk along the seawall. In hindsight, this was likely a stupid idea. But in my defense, it was a particularly windy afternoon, so if there were any virulent particles in the air, then they were likely blown and scattered in the atmosphere. We walked along the beach, away from others, with the intention of going to sit by the seaside on the rocks and vape some weed. There are great spots to get high and wash the slow drift of the bay as the sun sets. There were other people there, however, who after a long winter, had also come out to catch a few rays of sunlight. So, we decided to keep our distance and just go for a walk instead.
In the immortal words of George Constanza, “the sea was angry that day my friend, like an old man trying to send back soup in a deli.” The waves crashed against the seawall and splashed water in the air. Their force against the wall reminded me that mother nature is not someone be trifled with. She's a harsh mistress, and she'll mess you up, kid.
I climbed onto the sewall and recorded the spectacle from a different angle.
It was cold a day in spite of the sun. Normal for this time of year. Yet, the signs of spring were already there. On the gently sloping hills, the daffodils and crocuses were already in bloom. Yellows and purples dotted the grassy hills like master brush strokes. Spring! Life renewed! She always finds a way. Yet, I couldn't enjoy the sight of spring the way I used to. There was something sad about it. For I knew a viral storm loomed over the horizon. And wouldn’t you know it, I even forgot take a picture.
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