My Seattle trip, as told through my iPhone 3G's pics, videos, and my ramblings. I love clouds. I love when I'm outside and I can look up and see clouds. Huge, billowy clouds. Strange, wispy clouds. Clouds on a sunny day. Clouds on a stormy day. And one of my favorite parts of flying is being able to be, for once, above the clouds. The world-turned-upside change of perspective never ceases to make me press my face up against the airplane's window, just like the eight-year-old in the seat behind me.
I love the way that clouds never fail to awe me, to have me standing looking up at such a crazy paradox: huge, looming mountains of white that seem to dance with ease through the air, moving over me delighted like a prisoner being set free from the chains of the ground. Clouds can make me feel like a kid again, trying to decipher whether this particular cloud looks like an elephant or Bill Murray. They can make a freezing winter day feel, for a moment, like July again, like bright balloons at the summer carnival. They can remind me of a deadly tidal wave, raging toward me in an ominous, dark crest.
I had over 6 hours to stare at these clouds from above and remind myself that no matter how much I act like the universe revolves around me, I'm just a tiny bacteria in a Grand Canyon universe.