The Impossible Weightlessness of Clouds

The Impossible Weightlessness of Clouds by Vic Briggs

Weekly Photo Challenge: Adventure!

Dunes of vapour streak the skies just above. Here and there I can glimpse the blue inverse depths of the beyond. I can’t hold that stare for too long, afraid that the sensation of a world up-sidedown will intensify and I will be overcome by an irrepressible desire to plummet feet-forward into the upper levels of the stratosphere.

There are many reasons why this would not be a great idea.

For a start, I happen to be inclosed with hundreds of others in a metal bus, travelling at high speeds towards a predetermined destination. I haven’t seen any signs indicating that a specific foot position must be maintained at all times, but I am certain that, should I attempt any position other than the ordinarily acceptable, they would have something to say about it. (“they” always do)

For another, should it even be possible for me to somehow find myself outside at this kind of altitude, I would be ill-equipped to deal with the sub-tempretures on offer. (There is a reason why I’m heading to warmer climes.)

You may think that the lack of wings and/or appropriate breathing equipment should be of greater concern, but I beg to differ; these are mere details. The absence of wings does not interfere with gravity, and falling is so close a sensation to flying that I would be unlikely to be able to tell the difference until it would be too late to worry about it. As for breathing: highly underrated in its capacity to slow down and come to a near halt when the adrenaline kicks in. Still…

There are times when whimsy ought to be indulged, when a creative mind requires a physical imbalance of an unpredictable type that may symbiotically transform a literal into a figurative “change of perspective”, but this is not one of those times.

This is one of the others: the ones where the adventures to come  have the advantage of being unknown and all the more exciting for it. So I will draw my eyes away from those lingering dunes and fix my gaze on the spun-sugar islands floating just beneath my feet instead, and dream… of the impossible weightlessness of clouds.

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Departure Blues

airport-terminal

At the airport. The hub has little to offer other than the dreary monotony of passing the time before the ship is to resume its flight and deliver us all from familiar surroundings.

I watch the members of the nomadic public with some degree of amusement, searching in vain for any evidence of excitement imprinted on their faces.

Struck by the apparent triviality with which modern travel is approached, I wonder whether – since it became a prerequisite for many of their number – heading for the distant corners of the world is taken to be a tedious necessity.

Whereto did our spirit of adventure go?

PS: I suspect it’s just hiding. I’m sure there are many an adventurous soul embarking on yet another journey. Appearances can’t always be trusted. I’d rather hope for the best!