Steal an upward glance; you'll find any number of colors and formations here. Perhaps it is the higher elevation, or maybe just the excitement of a new place that makes it so suddenly relevant. The skies of Cagli are an artist's palette, a cohesive blend of uncountable tints and shades.

Purples fade into primary blues, and eventually into a white that absorbs the sun's rays to distribute them evenly across the horizon.

I went back to the river this morning and spent the day on my back - eyes alternating between varying states of open and shut - resting my head on a bundle of my own discarded clothing. When I had been there for awhile, bored with whatever book had been hovering in front of my face, I finally took particular note of the sky I had been unconsciously studying for an hour.

Deeper and deeper colors offered the promise of infinity, like grains of sand on a beach, or the endless mirrors of Borges. A storm was approaching, and the heavens began to roll out with the sad tremolo of distant thunder.

A single line of purple cut through the sky, tearing the horizon in two.

Even with the knowledge of coming rain, I did not want to move. I felt like I was a character in a work of art, captured forever on the painter's easel. When my body was finally reluctantly pulled away, I kept my eyes attached to the heavens - shades of Galileo - until the green of trees obscured the sky's shifting tides.

the camera catches a view of cagli from the road out of town. clouds hover approvingly above the more modern buildings of new cagli.

gray clouds cast a shadow over the rain-soaked corners outside of la colinetta hotel in new cagli.

clouds sink into the valleys created by opposing lines of trees surrounding the road out of old cagli.