Clouds. There is something especially charming about them. They are both here and not here. Is like they are a reflection from another world. A magical one.
When one stands below and watches them, one can vividly imagine what would be to ride a cloud. And I don't mean like being in an airplane, but like being a clould rider. The cloud riders are these magical cretures, most often spirits, but sometimes humans, who can see all a cloud had seen. I don't know about the spirits, but people do that by their imagination. By riding a cloud one can live through all the wonders it has seen - from its very birth till this moment. I suppose, if one is a master clould rider, he or she could forsee what's coming next for the fellow cloud. But one must have been a rider a lifetime or more in order to come so far.
There are different types of clouds. Not categories, you see, but types - like people. There are some fairy clouds who just dance around; there are mountain clouds, who are proud and mighty; there are sunset clouds, who just bloom before your eyes; there are sea clouds who most definately are travelers; there are clouds-fortress who look like enormous flying ships seen from below. And others of course, I don't know how many.
The cloud riding is like daydreaming and living an adventure at the same time. It makes the riders sleepy for the other people's eyes, but heroes in the cloud world. That's where the border with the other world lays - in the cloud riders' eyes and souls. Without them there would be no dreamy cloudy world - because there would be no one to notice and pay attention to it. Wouldn't this be awful?
