Clouds as portents, omens, hints, signs of direction, currents, particular landscapes.
Clouds rich with story.
Those rolling thuderclouds in the American South West; the busy chatter of clouds in Hong Kong. Victoria Peak lost in cloud. Or the single line of clouds out to sea from here, past Granite Island, like the hills of thousands of years ago, when Kangaroo Island was part of the mainland, a forgotten horizon remembered in clouds, by clouds.
And now, the cloud, the virtual world of data storage, different stories, more and more. Never before have so many parts of our lives had so much potential to be collected, layered, organised, be retrieved.
As we live lives increasingly distanced from the natural world, so that world appears in language in vastly different contexts – the cloud, electronic ‘footprints’.
Our lives, data stacked.
A thin, lone cloud passes overhead here, a brief flirtation with shade in the garden, before the return of heat.
Different worlds, different access points.