A colourless transparency.
The whiteness of gloom is the worst of all whitenesses.
Gloom possesses a redolence of depth.
Its negative divergence is overcome by the vividness of its coating of mystery.
Twilight is the great enabler.
Together, they are inseparable with the vibrancy of their endless venerations.
A variety of conditions that form the same end.
Inconstant matters of heated air that fails to accomplish the illusion of stillness.
Elements of rain.
But the wind is the conjoiner of these epic torments.
It is an intolerable vagabond of energy.
It drives us scurrying indoors with a look on our faces of indignation.
The weather makes light work of humiliating its detractors.
The sky is like a painting without the substance of colour.
It is a two-dimensional whitewash.
It is a con artist depriving us of the leisure of vastness.
It fails to deliver the fluid crux of its magical scenes.
The fight against the insanity of ordinary life is a defining factor of ordinary life.
This turbulent sky, these strange admixtures, these creases of light.
They capture it all in the briefest flurry of the day.
The spontaneous combustion of clouds.
Within these extremes of wetness, we are absorbed by rain.
Water is the predominant factor of this smothering influence.
The summer has been suspended.
The air is thick with the miseries of its humidity.
A lack of interest in the day is perpetuated by the day itself.
The sky is nervous.
Characteristics are lost in the debacle of its weary shades.
A history of bland patches.
The sky is preparing for meltdown.
Streaks of cirrus are causing cracks in the firmament to facilitate ruin.
Some days are extinguished like small flames.
They remain deliberately snuffed.
Stratocumulus mixes dampen the spirit and fall over the sparkle of enthusiasm like a wet cloth.