I used to think that clouds are like cotton candies in the skies, and had the ridiculous thought that if I ever took the plane, I can just open the windows and taste the clouds.
It was when I grew up when I realised (after a certain documentary) that it is the perfect recipe for an air disaster. Imagine this little tyrant trying to break the window pane of an aircraft under the pretext of tasting the clouds.
The only thing that made clouds different from cotton candy, in my young mind, was that cloud gets angry then gives us rain! Cotton candy is always happy and disappear if there’s water. I quote my younger sassier self, “Pretty, sweet but also useless kinda cloud.”
I like clouds. They are like our imagination, it can be anything you wish for it to be.
They are like human, charged with emotions. Sometimes, sweet and naive. Sometimes, dark and murderous. Sometimes cheeky, other times nonchalant.
Sometimes, they even disappear without a trace, leaving the blue sky oddly lonely.
I find myself lying on the floor often, looking at the skies, staring at the clouds, willing it to speak to me. Silence, engulfed me, then spat me out, whole.
The wind howling, the skies grey, the clouds dark.
And this, is another story for another day.
Hiam 