What is a cloud?

This "book" is supposed to be fiction. It is becoming more real than real. The avenues presented by what I am thinking about have led me to some interesting ideas.

 1. My library card. That was the most important thing to me when I was four years old.

2. My own personal library is out of control.

3. I have six Kindles. Not all of them live in my own personal space. I share my virtual library with other people.

4. My visual thinking is hooked into sound; by that I mean when I am occupied by something that is automatic, like driving a car or knitting, I can see in my memory exactly what I saw when I was listening. I fall asleep listening to either music or a book. I have done this all of my life.

5. I have been reading or have read: all of the below live on my Kindle. I have many other books about books.(real) I do not know why I am telling this. I do know that I embrace experience. I see this as amusing. My sense of humor is great. When I have no access to physical books, it is a wonderful thing to be able to grab it from a cloud. Space is always on my mind. I am a minimalist with a lot of things. What really strikes me is that then you die. I wonder about that, too. Is there a cloud in heaven? Or are we just the cloud. Until I find that out I will enjoy the process of reading and living.
 Amazon:

Gunpowder Tea and me

Bobbie Casey 2013-1950's?

This day on this train heading for New Mexico I will not forget. The Indian chief came into the dining car where we were having luncheon with mom when Superman asked if he could join us for there WAS an empty seat, after-all. The Indian chief told us that we had better get on with it for a dust storm was on the way and we would be right in the midst of it soon enough. I was stuck on the dessert menu. I really wanted to taste the gunpowder tea. I could see the chef at the middle of the car surrounded with what looked to me to be steel everything. Shiny and hot he looked to me. Man I was really happy to be a little kid right then, except my little sister kept kicking me under the table. I still do not know why she did that. The Indian Chief came back to tell us all about the landscape and the people who dwell here in this desertscape. I made up this word, I think. The animals and vegetables and minerals and how each needs to survive. Even rocks disappear if enough water comes along long enough. You can imagine what I was thinking. . .an Indian Chief, Superman, Mom, 2 girls and a man in a white tall hat plus a gillion other people sitting around eating and moving at the very same time. We were all moving down the tracks as fast as this train would go. It is pretty hot in this place, too hot, I think. When I grow up I want to paint and draw all that I see or think I see. I think I see more than anybody else. I notice things. I notice the looks on everybody's faces and I figure out what they are thinking, I think so, anyways. When I tell my sister that, she thinks I am making up stories. They are real to me. Mom always tells me to relax. It is going to be alright. But I keep having a feeling that that is just not so. This thought I am keeping to myself, though.