On a strange, windy, and seemingly endless Wednesday night, clouds suddenly appear directlyabove me; and directly in front me, there is a gorgeous blood-orange tree, its arboreal branchesspreading beautifully in every direction. The wind blows cold, bone-chillingly cold. A strong gust of wind pushes past me, strummingthrough my hair. The blistering wind is razor-blade-sharp, so sharp it felt as if I were being slicedacross the face with a knife.
Prenumerera på vårt nyhetsbrev för att få fantastiska erbjudanden och inspiration för din nästa läsning.
Genom att registrera dig accepterar du vår personuppgiftspolicy.
