A walk in the clouds

It is not cold and it is not warm. It is a mild afternoon. I am wearing a short sleeved t-shirt, and a pair of black jeans with a belt I am now regretting, mostly because it is too tight and I can not really loosen it in public without looking like a perv.
The noise from the Starbucks I am sitting in is a mix of elevator jazz, an angry discussion in Indian, a passive aggressive discussion in English, and an Eastern European (Polish?) quiet chat between lovers where the looks say more than the words.
I was on a plane two weeks ago. It was mid day, and I was sitting by the window. As we started our ascend, streets became grey grooves, people became dots, and the image started slowly blurring, turning grey, then white, and then we were in the clouds. We stayed there for a bit, and as I started getting a bit anxious, the first rays of sunshine made my pupils contract. I could not divert my gaze; it was beautiful. A carpet of clouds, thick and heavy, spread as far as I could see and I felt like I was walking on it.
I thought of the past few months, and how I felt like I was stuck in a cloud too. Sometimes under, being rained on; sometimes in, vision blurry; sometimes on top, looking at the stars. This reminded me of my guided meditation from Headspace, where Andy says that it is like looking at the sky, and not seeing the sun, because the clouds are in the way. The clouds are the thoughts, and the more you fight them, the thicker they get; however by meditating the clouds slowly clear, and the sun shines through. The sun has always been there, behind the clouds – it was just hidden.
I spent a week in Greece, a mix of family time, me time, and decompression. Time spent wondering what I am doing, collecting pebbles at the beach, reading The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell and stuffing as much Greek food I could in my mouth before leaving.
The trip back was different. There were no clouds, only a clear night sky; even though there was no sun, the earth seemed to glow from the inside, and I felt its glow warm my skin like a hug.
I am now back in London, back to work, back to reality. My tan is fading in days that are not cold and not warm, in mild afternoons soundtracked by Starbucks, in coffee that tastes of cinnamon and memories that taste like home, in electrically charged clouds full of thunder and hope.




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