Open through the skies, devoid of entities in heavens of the heathens, hail stones the size of caution rain down upon the fields. Clearing out a distance between the feet and scalp, one strikes a man down.
Rain, and the free fall of water, turns into a mini celebrated event. Largely due to the fact that the arid conditions of the race and game leave nothing much in the way of recycling their own waste water.
An obvious obstacle lies in the fact that the time to turn solid into liquid varies with the hands on hold and the cups used to sup the dripping drink.
Warming up around a fire outside shelter is an exercise of strange defeat. Rarely do the flicker of flames stand up beyond the might of strong winds and even thicker humidity ranges.
Written on Wednesday, 2 August 2006