Everyday over Atauro, by about noon, a top-heavy cloud ascending tens of thousands of feet into the air forms. The cloud is billowy, white, gargantuan, like a bouffon hair style over dwarfed island in a sky of bright blue. There is something so full about these clouds, their silent steady formation makes the morning seem lazy and wasted. While I sat in front of a screen, a fifteen thousand foot cloud formed on the horizon.

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