Why do clouds look like angry birds, hungry for revenge on invisible enemies?
Anger lives in territories of its own, with deep roots and repressed emotions. It changes its language, depending on who or what it is directed at.
I wonder if they recognise their own reflections. How do they label it? Angry birds or passing clouds? And then a new story begins, if they let it pass and let new shapes redefine their existence.
Anger transmutes into tears, when it moves inwards.
Rain drenches earth’s soul, combining elements to generate new life, and bathe minds in a new light.