There's something so fantastical about flying on a cloudy afternoon. You sit, dreary wet runway, impatient, to suddenly be lifted up and popped out on the other side, blue skies waiting. A bright sun on top and the most perfectly plump blanket of clouds below. It just makes the world feel... a little softer, I guess, for awhile. Like magic. Magic, fluffy, pillowy mountains. Makes me want to pick the perfect one and spend some of the afternoon making cloud angels.
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