Does this make sense?

The loud creak of the centuries old rustic gate announced my arrival into the fresh cool air. As I gazed around at my surrounding, squinting was the only option to adjust them to the ever so brightly yellow shine and to stop them from tearing like a new born child. The brisk morning air whipped gently around every little crack of face, including my forever deepening wrinkles. I took a slow step forward to sound of my heels hitting the uneven pavement slabs and tiny stones crunching under my feet like bones being broken. Yelling children busily ran past with their minute Wellington boots and mirror like waterproof macs hugged onto their tiny bodies as they dodged all the puddles from lasts nights heavy down which could have been mistaken for a hurricane.