I have always found my peace up in between the billows of clouds. Those luminous creations bring me a sense of tranquillity. Cloud watching gave me an escape from my life transitorily, for I had sinned, and there was no running away from my misdoings. I occasionally reminisce my childhood times when I was a starry-eyed child. The only thing that captivated me was the clouds. I remember yearning to touch them, wondering how those fleecy little clouds would feel between my fingers. I was in love. Those days of innocence were quickly washed over by waves of darkness, and I took to the devil’s doings for my own reasons. I committed heinous sins; sins I won’t be forgiven for. My palms were smeared with the blood of hundreds. Bloodstains I wouldn’t be able to wash away for eternities. My life took various tumultuous turns, but the only thing that remained constant was my desire to touch the clouds. Deep inside me laid the truth, about how I couldn’t feel them. I knew that the moment I would graze my finger upon them, their pristine white hue would be painted over by a dreadful crimson shade. And they would disintegrate into a million pieces, leaving this world cloudless.