Moigs.

Weatherman she’s your raging storm on a Saturday night, the gentle breeze rocking you to sleeping on a Sunday afternoon. she’s the highs and lows during the week, cool in the mornings before coffee and balmy at dinner time. she’s unpredictable day to day, but you can map her seasons, understand slow changes in her over time. she’s the hottest night on record, and the coldest winter you can remember. she’s the flood that will end your drought, the dam that breaks and revives barren land. she could drown you and you’ll still come back for more. because you’d endure her fluctuations, her unexpected lows in the hope of finding tropical storms at night. violent, perfect relief. there’s a storm brewing, and if you’re lucky enough to witness it, just revel in the beauty and splendour. too intoxicating to ignore, too dangerous to contain.