There, in the deep blue sky, were a series of clouds. Some were shaped like joy, others like sorrow.
Sometimes, the clouds were heavy with tears, slowly becoming gray as a storm stirred.
Other times, the clouds danced along with the sun during the brightest of days.
Amongst them all, lived a moon child.
She jumped from one to another, tearing a piece of the soft cotton-like fluff with her hand each time and then shoving it in her satchel.
She was terrified of edging near the cloud, wondering what would await if she fell, but every step she took into the vast sky, she found herself walking with the wind, her footprints being marked with ink.
At night, the ink shone. They formed constellations. Stars, they'd call it, arranging themselves into phrases.
The clouds were her thoughts, the stars were her words, and the sky held her story.