Wry Writer
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botanic gardens, montreal
One of the things I love most in life, strangely enough, is fleeting and ephemeral: clouds.
I love them, am fascinated by them, and can stare at them for hours on end. They’re ever changing and remind me of how life is ever changing. Nothing ever stays the same, people come and go, we move through time slowly, as if a cloud, always forming and reforming. Sometime benign, sometimes volatile, sometimes thunderous.
And always … always so full of dreams, secrets, and potent…