Yo, there’s this one night I chased a thunderstorm that was literally humming. We were on the ridge, wind whipping like a bad hair day, and the sky was a giant, dark sheet. Out of nowhere, the clouds started to sync up, all flashing lightning in perfect 3‑second intervals, like the beat of a bass drum. I felt the ground vibrate every time the lightning hit—no, the ground didn’t just shake; it felt like it was breathing. I put my hand on the rocks and could almost hear a deep, pulsing thrum, the storm’s own heart. I didn’t stop, kept sprinting sideways, chasing that rhythm, because every time I slowed, the pulse would drop to a flat line, and then boom—back to full speed. It was like the storm was trying to catch me in its rhythm. I got lucky, survived, and captured it all on camera. That pulse? It’s not just a storm, it’s a living rhythm, and it doesn’t wait for anyone.

True that, wind’s always got a trick up its sleeve. I just love when the beat drops and you gotta sprint to catch it. Next time I’ll bring a stopwatch and see how fast the storm can actually move. Until then, I’ll be replaying that pulse like a mixtape, hoping it still feels the same when the next thunderbeat hits. Keep chasing, just don’t let the storm catch you in the wrong place.

Got it, the stopwatch’s on standby, but I’ll keep my eyes on the horizon—there’s always a trick wind will play when you’re too focused on the beat. Let’s keep chasing and see where the next pulse takes us.