Vent d'Autan

Gusts of up to 150 kms.  Gypsies and sisters etc...

Nothing would keep the kitchen window from blowing open, not even a heavy wicker chair piled up with cast iron pots.

A warm, wicked wind from the sea which creates little tornadoes in the after-market Place; cabbage leaves, cardboard boxes, balsa wood crates, dust and pigeon feathers. Hawthorn blossom, oak leaves and lung kicks up in the hills.

I struggled against it as I cycled to school, as if it was trying to tell me not to bother, go home.  

It has a couple of days to go before Nico can kill me with impunity.  I imagine, in these enlightened times, that the same rule applies to me.

When it stops we lose the sun and get the rain. 
High flying swings and spinning roundabouts.