Removal by turbulence.“Dang” the Yardang.

💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨💨

Yardang.

Blew me away.

The size.

The shape.

The erosion.

The deflation, too.

Removal by turbulence

The lack of water.

Soil with broken rock fragments,

Were everywhere.

I could not find a place to sit.

They all looked uncomfortably, “pointy”.

The Yardangs.

They were abrasive. Yes.

They were sand blasters. Yes.

They were entrained.

Experts at collision.

Colliding between particles to further break them down.

The Yardangs did not care who got in their way.

They took down everyone and everything and formed their own communities. Intense and deflating were the Yardangs. Experienced at sustained erosion tactics.

The ultimate result?

Deflation.

The Yardangs threw humdinger of parties.

Let’s just call them particle parties.

Better yet, let’s call them: Blowouts.

A blowout of a particle party.

Blowouts. Are hollow. Offer only emptiness and broken promises. Formed by taking the wind out of the party. Deflation of the most deflating maneuvers.

Round and round. Up and down. Back and forth. Until the formation of something quite unexplainable takes its place. Abrasive to say the least.One of the ways they get their way. The abrasive concoctions of dusty and dizzying distractions.

The Yardangs. Experts in abrasive tactics. Of formation. They form in softer material such as silts.

That explains a lot.

Why and how they go after the vulnerables. The vulnerable places and spaces. To move in and take over.

The Yardangs—experts in wearing the other guys down.By collisions.

Of parts and particles. Of energy systems and the like.

Dusty.

Protuberance. Resembling a hull. It figures that a Yardang begins as a quiet version of soft and ends, after erosion techniques are employed, as hard.

Steep bank.

The Yardangs aspire to become the steep banks of any and all regions. They rename themselves, re-invent themselves to throw off any suspicion of what their real modus operandi is.

The mud-lion. Lucky if there is any water in sight for miles and miles. Sometimes, they resemble a mush room. Prefer the name mushroom rock because it sounds all “veggie.” Impressive.

The Yardangs prefer to live in the sphinx-like hills, among the catty cats and quiet kittens. The “too” quiet kittens.

The Yardangs can also be found all across the globe. Mostly in deserts, well every where. Mega, Meso, and Micro all children of the Yardangs move about in packs and sometimes separately. They even aspire to join other cousin Yardangs on Mars.

They gotta get there first.

Thirsty?

Nope.

The Yardangs move in groups, formations. They form in environments where water is scarce and the prevailing winds are strong. They have no direction and continue with their abrasive techniques to wear down the neighbors with their strong and heavy sedimentary ways.

Their familial motto: Move out of my way.

They will plan to leave you in the dust. Their dust.

Annihilate the enemy in the process.

Cause the most amount of trouble in the process, too. While winding down the tornadoic roads, The Yardangs are master animadversion and manipulators. Nothing mild about the strength with which they were not afraid to blow over and through another.

Back biting.

Mordacious.

Let ‘em have both barrels.

They carelessly fire potshots here and there and everywhere on their way through town.

“Outta my way.” “Outta my way.” Staking their claim. Setting up camp. On your property. Before you even had a chance to call it yours.

The problem.

The Yardangs were very good. very, very good at what they did.

Replace you.

Not even look back. Once they got what they wanted.

Your life.

Outclass the competition.

The Yardangs were not just blowing smoke.

They were the smoke.

After the fire.

Designed to take your breath away.

Forever.

Vanquish you ito tiny dusted particles to be scattered,

Wherever.

Sweep the board with you. After you and yours was particled to death. The Yardangs were arrogant, too. Making the decision to blow on through after they decide your life as boring, not cracked up to be something, anything, good or bad.

They were expert “blowers.” Blow you down while they mow you down. Move the currents of your life out of theirs. Take the air out of yours and replace you. With their life’s ambition of blowing you out to oblivion.

The Yardangs. Not neighborly, at all. Will blow you off. In a heartbeat. Disenchanted with your lack of existence.Lack of panache. Lack of flashy class.

The Yardangs have aspirations. Their respirations beat at a climatic minute, second even.

When all else fails. What is left to do? About the Yardangs dismissive ness and destructivess.

Blow a bubble.

Yes.

Blow a bubble.

No.

Because the Yardangs will be there. At the ready. To burst it.

Burst your bubble.

One of their many tactics. Say anything. Do anything. Simply to blow through your existence like a bat out of hell. To burst you and your life into a million particles of ignored and meaningless-ness dust.

Scattered.

They play dirty.

They play dusty.

They set up their rocky familial formations with little to no water and all wind. Gusty wind. Dusty wind. Gale force wind.

And the ultimate occurs. They set up camp. For many, many, many years. So many years. Near impossible to know, how many years.

There are few ways to run the Yardangs. Their gale force existence and treacherous ways.

The best one can hope for is for the wind to be at your back.

The Yardangs. They are hollow.Empty.

There are roads.

Desert roads even.

That will rise up to meet you.

Stay ever at your back.

Hold you in the hollow of their hands.

Have your back.

Which way the winds blows may not tell you when the Yardangs are actually coming from.

The assurance of another day in the belief system of altruism will guide you to where you want to be. Maybe not when. But it definitely will get life moving sooner rather than later. In the direction where you are meant to be, want to go.

These experts in guidance know a thing or two about which way the wind blows. And how you can be on the right side of its awesome power.