|looking toward Nevada last night: before the storm|
A quiet evening. Gathering clouds.
During the night, well after midnight, lightning flashes. Long seconds later, thunder more magnificent than the lightning, long rolling deep sonorous bass grumblings.
Toward morning rain, precious desert rain.
Lightning flashes and quickly now, thunder again, glorious Wagnerian booming (made me, to quote Woody Allen, want to invade Poland).
|looking toward Nevada this morning: still storm|
The discussion of Peter Handke's play Still Storm / Immer noch Sturm is ongoing here: