Should we call it Art?

Being above the clouds gives you a weird feeling of transcendence. The thick, impenetrable layer of whiteness below, contrary to all human reason, seems as solid as a rock. Here and there, sparse blue gaps tear this white infinity, reminding you of who you are. What you are. Where you are. Afraid of falling into the abyss … the abyss of the human world.

Through one of those blue holes, there is a vast blue field which creates a deep monotonic contrast with the pure golden sand. Stories of evolution spawn, of a comet, of an organism

A ship dragging behind itself two white lines like ivory tusks. A holiday cruise? I can’t zoom in enough to see the pools, though, or the beach chairs, the small-scale luxury of it. Or perhaps a fishing vessel? The eternal habitat of the sea strayed, an aquatic refuge of the terrestrial animal…

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