I have a problem.
I don’t read books; I devour them.
It may seem like it’s an exaggeration to call this a ‘problem’, but I assure you, it is very much a serious issue. Let me give you some context.
The clouds are edged with gold as if someone has drawn around them with a highlighter pen, and in between them great gaping tears in the fabric with soft corners where the evening sun shines through, a portal to another place floating away from me inch by inch. I wish I could paint so I could capture the smudged grey-blue of the clouds, delicately illuminated from the centre like a palette brought to life. The contrast between the stormy grey, the pale amber, the sky blue, all shot through with white trails.
I fiddle with my phone, take a few shots and look down, and when I turn back it has gone.
Image Credits: Seeta Parmar