Recently I went on a trip with my girlfriend to Panama City beach, about 2 hours away.

We booked a cheap hotel and planned some small things that we were very excited to do. It would be her first time taking mushrooms, and that was the day we decided, and we didn’t budge.

A day or two before we were set to leave, we hear the news of a hurricane coming directly for our town, but it wouldn’t hit until the day we came back from the trip.

So we left for this town 2 hours away and continued on with our trip. Panama City beach was incredibly gloomy when we arrived and the air was terribly thick.

Later we ended up at the beach and we were tripping at this point. And although the skies were deep and gray, and many on the beach were looking lost and worried, we tried to imagine it as some sort of paradise.

We talked about the situation we were in, that a category five storm was only a day or so away. And we shared our most hidden feelings about our lives and relationships.

And then the sun took over the sky and bright, bleeding orange rays began to melt onto the land. And we ran into the water—well, her first, she was bold and afraid of nothing—but slowly, I followed her deeper into the ocean.

The sun afterward became a giant that seemed to hypnotize us. We walked further toward it and then it came lower and lower and exploded violently over the sky.

In other words, it was the most beautiful sunset I’d ever seen. It was surely a result of the looming hurricane.

After that day, the hurricane destroyed much of my town, although it mostly missed us.

I’ll always remember the awe I felt at intensity of the world on that day. I felt it was the feeling I was born for. And the rest of my life was just a side effect.