I was on board the dawn airship embarking for the lengthy voyage to Cispin, the cloud city where Alex previously dwelled and toiled. Before teatime I was escorted to my ‘residence,’ a flimsy tent embellished with rare treasures. Cushions and carpets were scattered everywhere along with an assortment of tapestries hanging from the roof.

Though the accommodation was lavishly decorated, the pergola was flimsy, with what seemed to be mere twigs used to uphold it, which was indisputably unpractical. Here one could sleep all day, if not for the excruciating heat, though a pleasant breeze visited, renewing the local spirits – although the native liquor seemed to work just as fine. After inspecting the pavilion I sauntered around the neighboring platform.

Though delicate in appearance, the architecture was designed to use physics to its advantage. The columns swirled and reached upward; the cloth with intricate patterns which draped from them was endless. An otherworldly creature, covered in feathers and scales, seemed to patrol the grounds, and was supposedly a guardian to this sanctuary, described by others as powerful beyond my miniscule imaginings.

I promptly inched away from it.

Bright colors of orange, cream, blue and purple were splashed against the morning sky accompanied by stray clouds.

I regretted having to leave. I inwardly begged and reasoned with myself, staring at this mythical scenery which was free of all the worries of the world down below.

“Enjoying the view?” asked Alex, and when I responded, he included,

“Wanna start working after a quick snack?”

I stared at the melding hues and cascading wisps of clouds gently sloping in what seemed an endless horizon, the soft atmosphere embracing me, intriguing, and enticing me to explore these uncharted territories, mindful, and respectful towards its untamed boundaries, heeding them carefully.

The locals were creating a bonfire, a ritual for newcomers I was told, it showed respect, and kindness, as wood was a precious commodity here.

In a forest of contraptions, bottles, and books sat a man, hunched over an odd scribble. Huge eyes like an owl’s peered at the world, while a nose like that of a parrot’s beak breathed deep the warm spices that waltzed into his nostrils from the nearby teacup. His ashen face and messy raven hair were covered in ink blotches and raccoon rings outlined his weary eyes. Twig-like fingers puttered with his ink-sword to create illegible scrawls upon the parchment. He moved like a drunken spider, flailing his arms about and not allowing his mind to rest.