The clouds roll across the nearby mountains, and the winds (twenty-five miles per hour, or more) gust regularly. It's the Windy Season here in the desert.
It's migraine season. It's the worst.
I wish I could go out into the middle of the desert, and feel it all roll right over me, through me, and become one with it. Perhaps, then, I could find equilibrium inside my head, and the pain inside would finally cease.
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