A grey sheet was suddenly drawn over the cheery blue and white, sun-bright sky. Did the melancholy happen then, wonders Sangha. Is melancholy just a mood, and so will pass? Or is it something more. Is it what occupies the spaces between hours as time stretches endlessly from sunrise to sunset and back. Is it the meaning to life that has been lost? Is it the meaning to life that will not make its presence felt, remaining stubbornly hidden despite concerted search? Is melancholy the overwhelming feeling that comes with the thought that one’s life’s purpose is done and over with and nothing that one does henceforward will really hold as much meaning? So, does melancholy become interwoven with life? Is it no longer just a blotch of dye on the fabric of life? Sangha waits to watch.