When I was young, I used to stretch out in the cool grass and wonder who painted the sky. Of course, once I became more enlightened, I discovered something all together different. Today I was staring off into the distance, just wishing to be elsewhere, when I noticed the clouds. Without forethought or contemplation, the little boy popped up out of the grass and called shenanigans. "Look! Look! LOOK! There, where he changed colors! You can see the brush strokes!!!!"
Funny how the subconscious can so quickly be a child again. For a moment I was 8 again, rolling around in the grass, cackling like a sneak theif, and shouting "I told you!"

I don't know if you can see it in the phone pic, but it was a sky full of brush strokes.