In the sauna my body is like a rainstorm, dripping across the wooden planks that support me. The room is dark and desolate, waiting for someone to give it meaning. All of my life I wanted to fly through or touch a cloud. I wanted to jump into the billowing goodness of thick air, pregnant with life-giving water, and be swallowed up by all that it hides and covers. Here I am on the first day of the new year lounging in a dark wood box becoming a cloud – nothing but a huddled mass of energy and possibilities swirling around, opening so big that I am pouring across the floor, vitally aware of how colliding fronts create storms and how I can touch a cloud anytime I want. I just need to see it as possible.