I had invited a silent storm into my hut. Now granted my hut had holes and cracks way before I had met the storm. But it was undergoing major construction.
Nonetheless, when the storm howled, thunder lighting struck and it rained, I picked what was left of my hut and up to the mountain, I went.
My hut now has fewer holes, polished and colourful love from within is the decor. but the storm has never left a place un-thorn before therefore it feels like it has some destruction left to do… Allhahu manajna, God forbid I become bitter grey old of age, a caged bird or a tamed lioness.