Clouds

As we stand there and stare at the clear blue sky the wind suddenly gets up and starts gusting from the west and this cloud appeared and moved across the sky. A big white fluffy cloud like you see on the weather forecast with three bulbous blobs. And the cloud suddenly gets bigger and bigger and greyer and greyer and these black lines start to come out of it and it's raining and pouring and pouring and the rain slowly slows down and the cloud slowly evaporates into the blue. The cloud disappears into the blue sky. I look up at the blue sky.

Tim reads the text as he slowly drops to the floor. Mole has a lightbulb moment and says 'It's about smoke. That's the subtext.' We remember a conversation we had on the last day in Leeds. Talking about smoke machines, foam parties in Ibiza and fire extinguishers. The smoke of a bomb. The smoke of a smoke machine. We print that entry on the blog out. Mole and Tim are on their feet. We film them reading the text of the conversation we had in Leeds on the last day. From a conversation in the ICA dressing room to a conversation in Leeds Met Studio. Rolling.