One day Jowjen Joe was sitting outside enjoying the warm weather. As he lay on the grass staring at the sky he recalled the memories of his loved ones who had recently passed away. He reasoned that death, while tragic, is inevitable, and thus must be accepted. The cool breeze gently shifted the clouds above his head across the blue sky. Jowjen Joe glanced at their poetic movements and thought to himself could it be that the clouds are actually alive? Perhaps with their own communities, traditions and life styles? Perhaps it was not the wind shifting the clouds but rather the clouds creating the wind. Jowjen Joe thought about this theory long and hard. While interesting, it would be very difficult to prove, especially with his rudimentary tools to apply to the situation. He though about discussing it with others and asking for their opinion but he was afraid that should his theory prove to be true, others would pass it on as their own finding. Jowjen Joe dug in the dirt with his fingers making random drawings as he tried to find a feasible solution to his dilemma. In the distance sat Mount Washwanna which had always served as inspiration to him. Jowjen Joe gathered his belongings and headed towards the mountain. Once up high on its slopes, his mind would be free from all distractions and in a literal sense he would be closer to the clouds anyway. He slowly made his way up the mountain, stopping a few times to catch his breath and take in his surroundings. About half way up he approached a narrow ridge snaking around a cactus tree. As he rounded the tree, he slipped, lost his balance, fell of the mountain and died.