I went outside, sat down with my cup of coffee, and felt the cool breeze.
I lit my cigarette and puffed away.
Ruminating on the events of days past.
It had become my breakfast ritual since I found myself on that roof deck.
Some days my body was rehabilitating from alcohol-filled conversations the night before.
Other days, I was sharp.
On this day, I recall feeling cold and warm.
The Sun would intermittently show itself through the clouds, and then disappear.
It occurred to me to look up. I had my sunglasses on. To cover my recovering eyes.
The Sun was shining especially bright.
I remember thinking to myself “Oh, that’s why I’m feeling cold and warm.”
There were many little clouds in the sky. They looked like fluffy cotton candy. Or maybe like the many baby sheep I had seen on that island.
The Sun was extending its warm golden rays through the spaces between these countless soft baby animals.
I could also see the beautiful Mediterranean blue sky behind the clouds.
Then I thought “I love this. I wonder how it would feel to touch it. The texture. It looked perfectly textured.”
I stood up and took a few deep breaths. Closed my eyes with face up towards all of that beauty.
I grabbed another cup of coffee.
I lit myself another cigarette.
Then, enters the reason for all that daily perplexed contemplation.
He sat down. I offered him coffee. He rolled his cigarette. All in silence.
Sometimes, he was there before me. Sometimes, I was there before him.
But I always offered him coffee and a good morning.
He would sit in silence for a while. Maybe reading a book. Or maybe he was just staring at the screen some of the time.
Often, he was just there…with a confused, reticent, inquisitive gaze.
As if he was having an entire conversation with himself.
Then he said “I really like the sky today. It’s textured. The clouds have a defined shape. I really like that.”
I knew exactly what he meant.