I usually sit on the stairs of my house and stare at the sky; the never-ending canvas of colors that always know how I feel and, how it changes itself according to its mood. I document the change, sometimes with pictures and write-ups, the other times with memory. For as long as I can remember, I have held on to the sky, it brought out emotions I didn’t know I could feel and it helped me keep an image of every place I’ve ever been.
It made me realize that I could be in Japan and missing home and all I had to do was look up because the sky would always feel like home; it will always feel mine. I feel the same about water but with lesser intensity.
I have seen clouds move at my pace and slow down when I wanted them to, on days when I felt that I wasn’t growing and that everything was stagnant; the sky changed colors at such a fast pace from blue to orange to yellow and soon back to blue and I knew that it’s just a phase.
But now when I sit and write about it, all I can think about is how raw my thoughts are and how fast my mind is, the sky is as still as it can be, it’s a force of nature but my mind, my very own mind that I despise is the one that finds meaning in the one thing that is ordinary and turns it into art.