Its desolation and a sense of desperation that grips me as I walk home after seeing two movies with my friend. I am wary of everything I see, everything I feel, know and touch. I am so doubtful that life actually has a meaning that I can live for. The only bit of tranquility and hope I feel are the breif seconds when my eyes capture a cloud in the sky, puffed up in all it's silvery magical goodness, the warm sunrays leaking out from behind the mass of airy liquid particles. Something about the make up or the structure or the sublime image of the clouds comforts my aching, confused mind when I need it the most.