Sometimes, we can't explain. The wheather is black and white... Grey.
A big bubulle don't help you to eat. It's not about a catastroph, not about some difficult thing happend, just a sadness...
Inside...
Like a sponge, impossible don't drink the water...
Only clouds, Even no thunderstorms... no rain... just cloud that we cannot see the sky...

To change my ideas...
For me first, and for you... maybe...
Seal