Облака

Clouds can be philosophers. They drift along slowly, as if they know all the answers but are in no hurry to share them. Down below, everything is buzzing - arguments, dreams, pizza orders, weariness from the hustle and bustle - while up above, it's clean and quiet, as if time has taken a breath there. It seems the world is somewhere nearby, you just need to rise above the noise – even for a couple of breaths. There, neither the cold nor the distance is scary, and even what is lost becomes softer. Everything superfluous dissolves, leaving only the sky, Lake Baikal, and the feeling that kindness is still a working currency.