This morning, I was imagining the course of a simple conversation between a mother and a child, one that all parents have at somepoints, many points, in one form or another, and as I was thinking of it, I remembered another photo – one that I took last month on a Warsaw playground. Here are both, the imagined conversation and the photo:

Mommy, what’s a cloud?
It’s a bunch of tiny droplets of water and ice, suspended in the air…

Oh. Why is it covering the sun?
It has to do with the wind and the movement of air. Imagine it being pushed and pushed until it can’t help but cover the sun.

Can you unpush it? Can you make it go away?
No, I cannot.

How about my sore knee from when I fell down because someone pushed me on the playground, can you make it go away?
No, I cannot.

Mean people, mashed turnips..
I can probably do something about the turnips…

But mean people, bullies that push you?
No, I cannot. Listen, I can’t even make the weeds go away in my front garden. Look at it: It is a jungle. Out of control! It would take ten strong people with fifty long hours and shovels and shears and who knows what else to make this yard look pretty again.

I don’t care about the yard. I want you to make the tiny droplets of water and ice go away.
I cannot do that.