We usually observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me, it’s quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spat blues. Murky darknesses, especially the shades of grey experimenting with different proportions of black and white. I make it a point to notice them.

The skies, as grey as granite, might look like a boring monochrome palette but hold the essence of everyday life. Isn’t our livelihood, and I mean us, the ones who are in the middle of the spectrum, a little like it? A base plate of grey streaked with red, greens, and blues? But the beauty of that is that even the modest grey has intricate textures and character. A brush stroke here, an embossment there—painting a complex but oh-so-simple landscape called life.

I think that’s beautiful—to demonstrate what is so difficult to define. That’s what grey skies do for me. What do they do for you?

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