11:30: 50 clouds of grey
Is that why the sky is crystal blue today. Stretching my neck long like a meerkat I can just about see over the seat in front of me. 50 shades of grey. One peering over the top of each seat. Bundles of grey hair sit above each seat like a cloud over a town. Each cloud with a different intention. The darker the cloud the more tears he has inside. I wonder if this is the same for the clouds in front of me. Are white clouds happier than concrete grey clouds?
Slotted into each chair is a white piece of paper. Perhaps this indicates a profile for each cloud? Where they’re heading and how many tears they carry. Is this how clouds get around? Maybe it’s migration day.
At each stop a few more clouds leave the train. Step of the platform and disperse. Separate ways they go, of to pursue their own journey. Who’s parade will they rain on today? Who’s shoulder will they cry on?
The cloud in front of my is such a bright white it’s hard to believe there could be any tears inside. She must be a strong cloud. Arriving at her destination to protect her town from the strong rays of today’s winter sun. Standing proud the sun will reflect straight from her brilliant white surface and back into the sky. Allowing the town to feel the brisk chill of winter approaching. The chill that will receive inevitable complaints. Complaints as it carries out its job. It’s job supporting winter as as he comes out of hibernation congratulating autumn and giving him a well deserved rest.
