Look up to the grey sky.

A warm column of air rises around you, encircling the building you stand on. You feel its twisting shape, bits of paper and birds -- on the thermal. Along with several million litres of water. All rising up into the great Insulindian sky.

Continuously nothing. The sky slowly slides above you. The young woman exhales, the scent of menthol tobacco. Sounds like a sigh.

Nothing happens -- there is a mass of droplets above the planetary body, colourless, merging into one another...