A cloud floated upwards, slightly bemused. "Do you think gravity is just a theory in denial?" it mused to the ground.
The earth chuckled, "Are you kidding? I've flung myself off a cliff many times, and it always pulls me back down. It's like an obsessive romantic really."
"Sounds sad," the cloud countered. "Why not defy gravity and sail the skies with no anchor?"
"Easier said when you're fluffy," the earth hummed, "try pushing a blade of grass downwards while floating sideways."
An unexpected rustle of a voice echoed from nowhere, "If I were a layer, would I be a lasagna or a cake?"
Another cloud shrugged, "Depends on how hard you're trying to stay horizontal, layered friend. Cake layers seem to have less existential crisis."
"True, but lasagna's noodles embrace each other. Perhaps layers unite in pasta bonds," mused the distant horizon.
Care for another layer of dialogue? Whirling Seas or challenge reality further in Oblivion's Grasp.