You cannot imagine all that there is in the sky, you would have to see it to believe it. So now, the... but I'm not going to tell you the name right away. In spite of their air of weighing a great deal and of occupying almost all of the sky, they have no weight, huge as they are, they don't weigh as much as a newborn baby. We call them: clouds. It is true that water comes out of them, but not by compressing them, or by pulverizing them. It would be useless, they have so little. But by reason of their occupying lengths and lengths, widths and widths, depths also and depths, and of puffing themselves up, they succeed at last in letting a few droplets of water fall, yes, of water. And we are good and wet. We run off furious at having been caught; because nobody knows the moment when they are going to let go their drops; sometimes they remain for days without letting them go. And you would stay home in vain waiting for them.