The art of perceiving clouds is akin to revisiting a long-forgotten dream.
It begins with an understanding, a lesson hidden beneath the translucent veil of vapor.
You must once again inhale the scent of impending rain, its memory untouched by time.
Step gently, as if the earth beneath you were a cloud itself.
Follow the contours of your path, and find solace in the shadows cast by patterns.
Remember, the sky is a mirror of sweet fantasies, washed in hues of remembrance.
Deja vu arises not from the repetition of days, but from the whispered secrets of the breeze.
When you see a silhouette in the sky, it is not the first time you have seen it;
it is a familiar stranger, part of a story that spans across horizons.