Infinite clusters of clouds roll across the sky at varying paces. Most often the clouds movements are indiscernible, appearing to be moving at a speed to sluggish to register with the human eye; however, eyes fixed steadily on the clouds will slowly adjust to the pace of the sky and begin to perceive their movements.

Although the clouds seem to move at such a slow pace, they generally seem to change so significantly in a day. From clouding around the sun and blocking out its rays, to releasing the sun from its blanket, seemingly moments later. A sky filled with soft milky white clouds one minute changes to a more cynical darker shade the next. This new gray cast of clouds, which transpires so suddenly engulfs the sky in its entirety. A gloomy sky fills with an impenetrable layer of malevolent clouds.

Some days the sky is permeated simply with delicate white clouds which wisp across the sky in a weightlessness. On other days, the sky is choked with smoke-like black clouds, which seem to swallow up the earth whole. Some days are more diverse, with a pleasantly calm sky greeting the earth in the morning, simply to shock the world by evolving into a callous sky, hours or even minutes later.

I generally see humanity in such a way.

Society is continually changing. Things seem positive until in a matter of moments something changes and takes a turn for the worse. People can be in a positive disposition and then change seemingly unexpectedly. Some days society seems to be filled with altruistic and pleasant people who seem to be interested only in helping others. Then, on other days, society appears to be filled with grumpy cynical types, who simply care about spreading their malignant malady, petulance. On some days, I would say these are the worst days, I awake to a sun-drenched day, one in which the world is filled only with kindhearted people, and I feel a false sense of relief, believing it is a day in which society is promising, only for it to take a turn for the worst midday. These days are the worst, for I cannot brace myself for the cynics whom I will encounter, and they sneak up on me like the rain on a day in which I carry no umbrella.

I cannot know in advance what type of day it will be, for appearances are often deceptive and only time will reveal to me whether it is a day in which life should be enjoyed, a day in which the world is holding up an ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK sign, or the worst of all, a schizophrenic day, shifting between the two intermittently.