The temptation is to flee to the storm shelter, take a long long nap and emerge from the cellar after the winds die down. Or to tie down all I know and possess, so that nothing blows away in the fury.
Or, perhaps, to walk through it with an awkward smile, muttering to myself, gee, what wind?? This ain't so bad.....
All storms pass, but the winds of change are a constant.
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