Reports From Unknown Places
@clever-reports.bsky.social
Reports From Unknown Places About Indescribable Events
Digital art & texts by Ninn Salaün @bleu-capsicum.bsky.social
Not a bot!
@clever_reports is on Twitter, Instagram, and http://mastodon.art
Archives: https://www.ninnsalaun.com/all-the-reports
Digital art & texts by Ninn Salaün @bleu-capsicum.bsky.social
Not a bot!
@clever_reports is on Twitter, Instagram, and http://mastodon.art
Archives: https://www.ninnsalaun.com/all-the-reports
We report: all the rivers left their beds last night, and some fields are now ponds, and the ponds are now lakes. All day long, we have seen and heard water around us in places it should not be, and it rained and hailed again, too. It is late when the clouds part for good.
January 27, 2026 at 11:23 PM
We report: all the rivers left their beds last night, and some fields are now ponds, and the ponds are now lakes. All day long, we have seen and heard water around us in places it should not be, and it rained and hailed again, too. It is late when the clouds part for good.
We report: last days of January, and winter still has a long way to go. We see between scrawny trees the extra hour of daylight that has been earned back, and we really, really cling to it. The wind has a whistling, howling quality that we only hear around this time of the year.
January 26, 2026 at 11:47 PM
We report: last days of January, and winter still has a long way to go. We see between scrawny trees the extra hour of daylight that has been earned back, and we really, really cling to it. The wind has a whistling, howling quality that we only hear around this time of the year.
We report from a hollow in a cloud: extremely cold at this height, but everything is light and shade, and we cannot see the ground from here. The cloud where we are is at mid-altitude, but we watch it expand above us, and we watch the lower clouds move very fast beneath our feet.
January 25, 2026 at 11:55 PM
We report from a hollow in a cloud: extremely cold at this height, but everything is light and shade, and we cannot see the ground from here. The cloud where we are is at mid-altitude, but we watch it expand above us, and we watch the lower clouds move very fast beneath our feet.
We report: the sun is obscured by the clouds, but there is a bright castaway to the side - almost brighter than the sun itself. The weather has been frazzled all day, so we came out in full rain gear, but the scales will not dip one way or another. We end up needing sunglasses.
January 24, 2026 at 11:02 PM
We report: the sun is obscured by the clouds, but there is a bright castaway to the side - almost brighter than the sun itself. The weather has been frazzled all day, so we came out in full rain gear, but the scales will not dip one way or another. We end up needing sunglasses.
We report at dawn, in a place where it does not snow very often. Our expert attempted to wake us up when the snow was falling in the middle of the night, but we did not even remember it upon waking up. We slept well, so we cannot bring to ourselves to regretting it too badly.
January 23, 2026 at 11:50 PM
We report at dawn, in a place where it does not snow very often. Our expert attempted to wake us up when the snow was falling in the middle of the night, but we did not even remember it upon waking up. We slept well, so we cannot bring to ourselves to regretting it too badly.
We report: we heard somewhere that the moon is pulling away from Earth at the rate of 3.8 centimetres a year. All around, we know this will not amount to a noticeable difference over the span of our life. We still think we ought to find a way to bring it back closer to us.
January 22, 2026 at 11:08 PM
We report: we heard somewhere that the moon is pulling away from Earth at the rate of 3.8 centimetres a year. All around, we know this will not amount to a noticeable difference over the span of our life. We still think we ought to find a way to bring it back closer to us.
We report under especially cloudy clouds. When the clouds are like this, we have a hard time thinking back to a time when the sky was blue (though it was only yesterday). Curiously, there is not even a hint of precipitation; it is cloudy simply for the sake of it.
January 21, 2026 at 11:40 PM
We report under especially cloudy clouds. When the clouds are like this, we have a hard time thinking back to a time when the sky was blue (though it was only yesterday). Curiously, there is not even a hint of precipitation; it is cloudy simply for the sake of it.
We report: this morning, the clouds weigh nothing, and the sun is high. It is so bright outside that it is a while before we can fully open our eyes, but it is hard to feel irritated when the light feels so invigorating. There is excited chatter between two blackbirds in a tree.
January 20, 2026 at 11:33 PM
We report: this morning, the clouds weigh nothing, and the sun is high. It is so bright outside that it is a while before we can fully open our eyes, but it is hard to feel irritated when the light feels so invigorating. There is excited chatter between two blackbirds in a tree.
We report on the train: it is a little too early for the sunset, so the overhead lights are still off, but this surely is sunset light already. The specks of dust and old rain stains on the windows are glitter. Across the aisle, our expert’s face is outlined in gold.
January 19, 2026 at 11:51 PM
We report on the train: it is a little too early for the sunset, so the overhead lights are still off, but this surely is sunset light already. The specks of dust and old rain stains on the windows are glitter. Across the aisle, our expert’s face is outlined in gold.
We report: we chance a last look at the sky before going to sleep, out of habit. We think we know it will be too cloudy to see anything, but we can never go to bed without a last look. We remember why that it is upon seeing the stars. A bit of fog moves between constellations.
January 19, 2026 at 12:22 AM
We report: we chance a last look at the sky before going to sleep, out of habit. We think we know it will be too cloudy to see anything, but we can never go to bed without a last look. We remember why that it is upon seeing the stars. A bit of fog moves between constellations.
We report in the shadow of this large, dark cloud: there was hail earlier, and we know this is hail again. We should perhaps get out of its path, but we feel hypnotised by the way this cloud is eating the light, the ravenous thing. Its underbelly seems to dip from its own weight.
January 17, 2026 at 11:51 PM
We report in the shadow of this large, dark cloud: there was hail earlier, and we know this is hail again. We should perhaps get out of its path, but we feel hypnotised by the way this cloud is eating the light, the ravenous thing. Its underbelly seems to dip from its own weight.
We report: when we listened to weather predictions this morning, and no rain was announced for the whole day, we heard our expert snort quietly. It did not take very long for them to be justified. It was true, however, that it sometimes did not rain, and the sky was blue then.
January 16, 2026 at 11:08 PM
We report: when we listened to weather predictions this morning, and no rain was announced for the whole day, we heard our expert snort quietly. It did not take very long for them to be justified. It was true, however, that it sometimes did not rain, and the sky was blue then.
We report in the pink few minutes of sunrise. In the morning, the sun veers more and more northeast from its wintry southeast position - although it is not any warmer that we can tell. We follow a host of sparrows from tree to tree as we are trying to dodge a very thin drizzle.
January 15, 2026 at 10:25 PM
We report in the pink few minutes of sunrise. In the morning, the sun veers more and more northeast from its wintry southeast position - although it is not any warmer that we can tell. We follow a host of sparrows from tree to tree as we are trying to dodge a very thin drizzle.
We report: there is enough fog that we keep wondering whether there is something wrong with our eyes. We could easily get lost in there. The landmarks we take note of disappear in short distance, and we do not see them whenever we retrace our steps. Luckily, we are not lost.
January 14, 2026 at 11:27 PM
We report: there is enough fog that we keep wondering whether there is something wrong with our eyes. We could easily get lost in there. The landmarks we take note of disappear in short distance, and we do not see them whenever we retrace our steps. Luckily, we are not lost.
We report in generally stormy weather: it is quite windy, and quite rainy as well. Nothing is terrible, but there is a lot of weather happening, and it is reflected in big, liquid clouds spanning several lengths of sky. We notice that some leaves had yet to fall from their trees.
January 13, 2026 at 11:52 PM
We report in generally stormy weather: it is quite windy, and quite rainy as well. Nothing is terrible, but there is a lot of weather happening, and it is reflected in big, liquid clouds spanning several lengths of sky. We notice that some leaves had yet to fall from their trees.
We report: mid-morning, the moon is firmly past its upper culmination, and on its way to the horizon. It is waning, a week away from the new moon. In the nighttime, it is a late visitor we see when we should not be awake; in the daytime, it is a wild cryptid we stumble upon.
January 12, 2026 at 10:36 PM
We report: mid-morning, the moon is firmly past its upper culmination, and on its way to the horizon. It is waning, a week away from the new moon. In the nighttime, it is a late visitor we see when we should not be awake; in the daytime, it is a wild cryptid we stumble upon.
We report on the road, after our expert filled the petrol tank. Our fingers jump across clouds behind the window, the way we used to do it as a child; it is still covered in droplets of past heavy rain, weeping sideways from the speed. The wet road looks like it is on fire.
January 11, 2026 at 11:44 PM
We report on the road, after our expert filled the petrol tank. Our fingers jump across clouds behind the window, the way we used to do it as a child; it is still covered in droplets of past heavy rain, weeping sideways from the speed. The wet road looks like it is on fire.
We report: when we come here, we know it will be much windier than everywhere else, and in the winter, the ocean wind is always harsh. It gets in our ears and rearranges every thought and memory we have ever had, until we too feel like wind and water. This is why we come here.
January 10, 2026 at 11:43 PM
We report: when we come here, we know it will be much windier than everywhere else, and in the winter, the ocean wind is always harsh. It gets in our ears and rearranges every thought and memory we have ever had, until we too feel like wind and water. This is why we come here.
We report: we think of the weather as alive, always, but today especially. There was a storm last night, and the sky is still sorting itself out from the mess it caused. It is raining disorderly, in short bursts. There, between two clouds, the sun finds room enough to shine.
January 10, 2026 at 12:04 AM
We report: we think of the weather as alive, always, but today especially. There was a storm last night, and the sky is still sorting itself out from the mess it caused. It is raining disorderly, in short bursts. There, between two clouds, the sun finds room enough to shine.
We report: over time, we have taken to collecting the small incidental waves caused by the Kelvin Helmholtz instability. Not too differently to four-leaf clovers, we superstitiously imagine that our being there and then, looking for it, is bound to bring us good luck.
January 9, 2026 at 12:12 AM
We report: over time, we have taken to collecting the small incidental waves caused by the Kelvin Helmholtz instability. Not too differently to four-leaf clovers, we superstitiously imagine that our being there and then, looking for it, is bound to bring us good luck.
We report: on the way home, we look for high ground to watch the sunset, hoping it is not nightfall when we find it. It feels familiar, walking fast in brisk weather for a moment of colours. We never find the right spot, and we realise our two eyes are not enough to see it well.
January 7, 2026 at 11:47 PM
We report: on the way home, we look for high ground to watch the sunset, hoping it is not nightfall when we find it. It feels familiar, walking fast in brisk weather for a moment of colours. We never find the right spot, and we realise our two eyes are not enough to see it well.
We report in those very cold hours of the almost-morning. The snow is untouched on the fields, barely any fox tracks in the hollows of the furrows when we look carefully. The wind is moving the clouds along, and the sky is already less opaque than it was yesterday.
January 6, 2026 at 11:14 PM
We report in those very cold hours of the almost-morning. The snow is untouched on the fields, barely any fox tracks in the hollows of the furrows when we look carefully. The wind is moving the clouds along, and the sky is already less opaque than it was yesterday.
We report in the mid-afternoon: we have been keeping track of the weather acoustically today. It is all in the nuances of the muffled sounds of the rain versus the sharp attack of the hail, and the freezing rain somewhere in between. If there was snow, we missed it.
January 5, 2026 at 11:36 PM
We report in the mid-afternoon: we have been keeping track of the weather acoustically today. It is all in the nuances of the muffled sounds of the rain versus the sharp attack of the hail, and the freezing rain somewhere in between. If there was snow, we missed it.
We report: so far today, no rain, no hail, and the wind is awfully dry too. We have chosen this day for a walk, thinking of the clear weather as great conditions. That it is, but we are feeling the chill on our face very well. We carry a sun glare in the corner of our teary eyes.
January 4, 2026 at 11:50 PM
We report: so far today, no rain, no hail, and the wind is awfully dry too. We have chosen this day for a walk, thinking of the clear weather as great conditions. That it is, but we are feeling the chill on our face very well. We carry a sun glare in the corner of our teary eyes.
We report after a shower of fine hail: we thought the night would have well and truly fallen once the sky cleared. We now realise that since the solstice, we have gained a handful of minutes of sunlight. It is still practically nothing, but we are eager to notice these things.
January 4, 2026 at 12:49 AM
We report after a shower of fine hail: we thought the night would have well and truly fallen once the sky cleared. We now realise that since the solstice, we have gained a handful of minutes of sunlight. It is still practically nothing, but we are eager to notice these things.