I’ve been fantasising recently (for the last three years) about adding washing-up liquid to a local fountain.
Of course, I never do. I am a good boy.
And today it happened: some other naughty soul did it, and frothy bubbles were mounding up high in the basin, ready to crash into the street.
I felt joyful, thankful and connected. I felt connected to the naughty person who did this. There’s a funny, fairytale quality to having captive-clouds at knee-level Hands can playfully part the clouds and shape them. People walking by make little happy noises as they stifle smiles.