The sands are alive

Forget about the sun block, blond beach babes and savvy surfer studs when going to the coast... I had the sand and wind for company.
She, the wind seemed angry: shrieking and screaming. About what? I am not too sure. This Jozi gal does not speak Port Elizabeth.
Him, the sand, did not even know what hit him really. He was whisked off, like a floating ghost brushing the ground.
In the distance pile and piles of sand.
Sand dunes: the result of the love between sand and wind.
But Friday was a different story.
I realised I came in between this lovers spat, for the sand was thrown into my eyes and every orifice. My freshly washed hair became stiff with sand transforming into bits of mud.
While the He, the sand exfoliated, She,the wind managed to even silence my thoughts.
Though it feels like a desert, it is really at the ocean.
The contrast makes one feel really tiny in this beautiful ball of blue, green and brown.
And it never ceases to astound me.