Now I merely see wretched patches of a tattered sky. A shabby sheet of cotton spread over the celestial blue. It used to be a fantastical show of mythical beasts and imaginary scape. I swear i could hear music too. Giant leaves drifting in the sky, melting. I witnessed the great theatre of a flying pig that transformed itself into a watering can. They weren't clouds, but a hazy circus troop in action.
But I was in love then.