When the season of darkness is upon us and a storm strikes on cold night, nature's omen awakens the senses with the intense aroma of the sea's native drifter, the seaweed.
The heartless blizzard on the horizon threatens a ruthless attack on the shores of man's city fortress and only the curious and the cautiously reckless venture to the forefront of the storm as it prepares to violently slap the weak population.
The temptation to venture to the forefront of the watery land is too sweet to resist when the alluring aroma of the seaweed calls for attention.
The curious and cautiously reckless indeed venture to the forefront of the storm, briefly before the heart of the storm overwhelms the world with the harsh whistle that penetrates the inner ear, and then slams the rain and snow to the fortresses of man's inhabitation.
The dark sea in response to the rising wind is rowdy, frightening the living from entering its world by forcefully warning the powerless from entering a world that is not for the faint-hearted.
The aroma of the storm is that of the seaweed, salty and savory but delicately sweet. Too tempting to resist. But then, when the rage of the storm is imminent even the bravest and reckless escape to safety.