Thunder crashes in the distance, the sounds reaching me in the hot almost-still night, broken, also, by the constant chirping of the crickets. The storm is still far away. It may come this way. Or it may pass overhead, its bark worse than its bite. This is my favourite time of the year.
Today's prompt: What was the last picture you took?
Tell us the story behind it. (No story behind the photo? Make one up,
or choose the last picture you took that had one.)
5th January 20h48. It’s a hot and balmy summer evening. Eskom could have load shed on this evening and I wouldn’t even have minded. The moon provided as much light as any lamp. It was beautiful and no camera could’ve captured its beauty. I tried…
