The usual spot. Again, couldn’t see Fuji-san . . . but what did it matter?

But someone, I think, was gathering those big white clouds. Someone just nutty enough to imagine that a sea of puffy-cotton clouds could both wipe out the foot of Fuji and hold its snow-covered top up in the sky . . . just about where it had always been.

Was it you?

Anyway, an hour later . . .