I followed some balloons one day.  They were all colors, except storybook blue the color of the late afternoon sky.  They were not tied to anything, not even to one another.  They traveled as if a flock of balloon birds.  I felt a little sorry for them, really.  They should have been doing balloon things, like being attached to clowns.  They did not think any less of my for feeling so.  So, even though I had some place to go, I followed them, carrying with me a barely controlled anticipation.  Perhaps there will be clowns!