I will never get tired of looking at the sky.
More temperamental than any woman, its shapes and colours are ever changing. Its sets the backdrop for cataclysms, war, romance, loss and joy; draws the curtains on historical events, signifying every stories of the earth below, with its every variation. Fluctuating from siren red to zircon blue to the deepest onyx, I can but stop and stare. It is the only thing visible to us with the naked eye that truly feels limitless. I have built castles in it, in the crevices between lazier clouds. Every cloud is a beauty spot on its face. I have seen people in them, trying to put faces to names.
It is one of the few things I am truly in awe of.