颱風 Typhoon

Though it may wreak destruction, there is a undeniable beauty to it.

Rain that flies upward, spitting into the air in mad steam, while thick frosted hail streams down only to be blown apart by a fierce gust of wind and split into seven white flakes of snow.

Wind and water are thrown and driven across the sky. The wind is so strong you can see a white foam dancing through it and the rain so dispersed it flies in every direction, yet remains just as thick as a torrential downpour.

Trees bend under its power and buildings shake. Random objects are scattered in the skyline, flying and crashing against walls. The constant breaking brings your imagination to piece together every outcome.

It has a terrific sound, hissing and whistling in the peak of its fury. A red sky warns of danger; a restless storm refusing to slow.

It is a madness and a beauty; an unrelenting emotionless force long awaited for since its news of arrival and much too long overstayed.

Not just precipitation and wind, it is a power birthed from the sea and housed in the sky.

Typhoon.


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