I once saw a ten-minute documentary on Channel 4 about the
Cloud Appreciation Society. These people dedicate their lives to cataloguing, observing and searching out the most beautiful clouds in the world. Their eyes are constantly turned heavenwards, judging how exciting their days will be by the amorphous shapes that float above their heads. And the ultimate cloud? The most unique piece of fluff that all cloud enthusiast must experience one day in their life?
( The Morning Glory! )I love observing clouds. Maybe it has something to do with me being a Libra (air sign), but also a leftover from when I was a child and I thought I carried the power to create storms with the tips of my fingers. I've had dreams where I'm flying through clouds; I've flown a thousand times over clouds (inside airplanes that took me around the globe); I've taken photos of clouds shaping a sunset, a sunrise, or just the backdrop of a group of friends; I've laid in a dozen beds watching the clouds outside my window; I've judged my days by the clouds I saw outside the kitchen as I ate my breakfast; I've felt hopeless at being stuck at work because there were few clouds in the sky and the sun seemed so inviting. When the clouds are there, I feel hypnotized, emptied out of all my frustration and angst. Maybe the clouds are to blame for my constant daydreaming; their changing shapes reflect my changing moods, my changing desires.
Right now, my colleague has
Air's album Talkie Walkie playing (how ironic, huh?) and I can observe the clouds that roam London's Southbank. They are purple with rain, but sparse-looking, like diluted watercolours. If I squint my eyes, I can discern a few shapes, a few "hills" that separate them. A plane now flies through the clouds, heading towards Heathrow. A seagull flies closer, between us and King's College. Do birds care about the clouds too?