For some reason storms seem a lot more intense, or powerfully magnificent, when they are witnessed at the sea shore.
The clouds loom in the distance for a while, as though challenging the majestic entity of the sea, before charging into towards the water headfirst like a horde of mighty buffaloes. The sky, which had been an innocent baby-blue just moments before, transforms into a whirling tempest in moments.
Lighting flashes in the distance, striking the horizon where the sea and sky are steadily melting into each other. It’s the icy, metallic veins connecting the two worlds, which were never apart on the first place.
The usually lively chatter and cries of seagulls dies down, beach balls are put away and any living soul sprints for cover from droplets which will soon become splashes, which will then unite with the gusts of wind and become upside down waves.
Some might call the storm angry, but after observing all this you understand that this is a misunderstanding. The storm is a dynamic magician which allows, temporarily, a conversation to occur between the sky and the sea.
Wandering Travelographer 