When you look up on a bright day, the clouds drift in endless variety. Some are thin and delicate, stretched into long wisps as if painted across the sky with a sweeping brush. Others gather into soft, round puffs — like sheep grazing in a blue pasture. A few twist into odd silhouettes that spark the imagination: a running fox, a teacup, a mountain range on the horizon.
The shapes shift constantly. What was once a dragon’s head dissolves into a smooth wave, and a lone puff is slowly absorbed into a larger cluster. Each moment is different, like an ever-changing gallery suspended above the world.
Then there are the towering clouds.
They don’t just float — they rise. Vast and monumental, they build upward layer upon layer until they resemble fortresses in the sky. Sunlight glows on their upper edges, while shadows carve depth into their lower walls. From below, they can feel as imposing as stone towers, their tops stretching so high they seem to touch a place beyond reach.
These clouds turn the sky into a vast canvas, inspiring us to see stories and worlds hidden in the air.
