She hates the wind.
The wind moves the clouds fast, away from her.
She hates the wind.

She loves the rain.
The rain makes her wet, and happy, the rain makes music.
She loves the rain.

She does not know what to think of the sun.
How does this gigantic fire ball, make so many people happy?
She does not know what to think of the sun.

She likes the clouds.
They are her home, they are her sanctuary.
She likes the clouds.

She is fond of the mist.
It covers her vision, and also her chances of seeing what she does not want to see.
She is fond of the mist.