Reading “November above the clouds” instantly brought me back to the night I spent on a small ridge in the Catskills last autumn. I had driven up with a friend after work, hoping to catch the first hint of snow before the city lights swallowed everything. We parked at a pull‑out, climbed a short trail, and found a flat spot where the sky opened up like a vast, bruised canvas. The air was crisp, the clouds hung low enough to feel within reach, and the distant town lights twinkled like fireflies below. télécharger melbet We sat in silence, sipping hot chocolate, and watched the wind sweep the clouds across the moon. That fleeting sense of weightlessness, of being suspended between…