Skip to content


The wind rises like psychosis, a black mood. It is imbued with both menace and malice. It toys with me. A game of cat and mouse. It screams and curses. Mutters. Threatens. Pounces. Seizes. Worries. It has teeth.

There is no fighting back. It takes possession of me completely, with the embrace of a lover whose practiced violence leaves no visible trace. I enter into the affray stripped naked. So vulnerable. Utterly known. It leaves me weak. Defeated. My will, crushed and broken. I offer myself up to it because I can do nothing else. It knows my inner weaknesses better than I do myself. And surrender only incites greater brutality. There is no end to this wind’s spite, no way to placate it.

Cerro Castillo playground, with it’s wind break, serves as the cyclist’s campground.

{ 3 } Comments

  1. Jens | April 15, 2014 at 3:47 pm | Permalink

    beautifully written . Salodos J.

  2. Lucie | April 17, 2014 at 8:30 pm | Permalink

    I guess this might be one of the toughest moments you’ve met during your travels, Anna. You don’t complain much, but if you do… you must have a reason. Sending you love and energy!

  3. Will Kemp | June 20, 2014 at 12:10 pm | Permalink

    You’re getting poetic in your old age, Anna!

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *