The morning sky tasted like a cold cup of espresso, sharp and a little bitter, awakening my senses in those stolen seconds before the day began.
A weathered face gave no sign of time's passage as it curated the clouds, linking them to tales of distant voyages and echoes of forgotten laughter. Everybody in his world knew what a cumulus was supposed to emote; it transcended mere meteorology.
But internet skies? A collection of pixels hanging over civilization, each with computed dreams and algorithmic lights. Ever updating, never stable, feeding on bits and bytes and cryptic codes.
The glitches come and go like typhoons in the desert, umbrae flickering across… ether dynamic. Cross and be gasped, confidently untold like phenomena observed in antiquity.
Sometimes, when the dust aligns, you catch a glimpse of something pastoral in these unreal vistas. A tree perhaps, or a calm lake. Did it all begin as a grounded strategy sketch on paper? Share your vision: