The world of the wind.

The wind is pulling at me. I soak it in as it whips my hair every which way. Pulling it in every direction. My hand flies up to my head, staying my hat, keeping it from dancing away. It's a wonderful feeling. A strange feeling. Constricting and freeing all at once. It's as if the wind is pushing me, bullying my feet away from their intended path, rudely shoving me along. And yet, at the same time, I feel that if I just let go, just give in, I could soar a thousand miles away. Over buildings and tree-tops. Over oceans and rivers. Across nations and tribes. Away from all known governments. Into the unknown. The world of the winds.