Yesterday at lunch M and A talked about the afterlife over gourmet pretzels. The sky feels like an introduction to it, the plane pushing through clouds a blinding white, almost serene. It seems like the softest cotton and the lightest chill.

The geography peeks out from below the clouds here and there. As we push through them it feels like how pushing through the subconscious would be. The clouds seem dense and heavy with weight but they cascade sometimes, brushing apart.

There are layers to the clouds here, and they are all lined with a nice clean gray blue, slate color.

The clouds gape and the land reappears below, dark olives and some spotted ochre, some blue.

Pushing through the clouds is like stepping through a dream, gliding through a dream.

It’s like we’re at the top oof the world and suddenly roads appear, a web of picket fences houses snaking along highways

Things aren’t this simple

Everything seems so snug.

Cool blue sky, light blue sky hints at rain