When the sky touches the land at some distant point ahead that you see afar off, then you know you have space enough to dream.
There’s so many ways to move through a landscape: through the air or on the ground, taking the path that goes under the tall deep green trees, or along that horizontal plain that escapes like an arrow to some unknown locale just beyond the range of vision. What lies over the hills of a dream? Where does the light lead? How green is the greenest green of life?
And what about the ball of light inside the clouds?