Cumulonimbus

There are few things the human mind can’t do. Their bodies are more or less limited in every degree, but little can stop one’s mind. There is a common phrase. It’s along the lines of: “You can’t imagine,” or “Beyond the imagination,” etc. This undermines the human intelligence. Anything can be imagined. Imagining is one thing; believing is another.
Believe is a word often affiliated with not certain. We often say believe in replacement of the dangerous, commitment-forming word know. To save ourselves from the hazard of being accused of certainty, we often say, “I believe that was the case,” or “I believe I saw…” To go a step further, to believe something is quite different than to believe you believe something. Belief is a frame of mind.
So, say you are performing the common, stress-relieving activity of watching clouds, perhaps sighting shapes in them. Is it ever so hard to believe that those clouds exist? The quick answer is that you know that those clouds exist. I would then correct you. You know that you see clouds. You perceive, even at such a great distance (or the distance you believe to exist. Pardon: that you know to exist), all the facts of clouds that you’ve learned over time. (This learning I’m referring to is other people telling you what they know, which they learned from other people who learned that from other people, until you reach people who believe they knew something about clouds).
When someone says, “You can’t imagine,” they really mean “It’s hard to believe.” Of course, I won’t quickly believe in, or dare say I know of (outside my mind), a world of winged horses or wand-waving wizards, but I will say I that believe in believing there is such a world.
Back to subject of clouds, I would say what everyone “knows.” Clouds are evaporated water molecules, which condensates together to form the cloud. The shapes, or types, of clouds differ from each individual based on the conditions during their formation. Anyone who has past the second grade could tell you that.
Another fact, so well known, they don’t bother to tell you in school, is that clouds could not support anything heavier or denser than the cloud itself. A human would fall right through. Thinking on the subject, I once posed this question to a friend. A new imagining: why can’t a person live on a cloud?
She answered that they would fall through.
I asked her why.
She said it was because clouds are light and fluffy. It couldn’t support the weight.
To solidify her knowledge of this “fact” to myself, I asked after her proof.
She repeated that people would go right through.
I wondered if she had tried.
She hadn’t.
This conversation brings up the thought: planes and birds go right through clouds. Then it occurred to me: Birds only fly through thin clouds, I believe. They wouldn’t bother trying to power through one of those thick, puffy, cottage-cheese-looking ones. As for planes, I am certain anything can go through anything if allotted enough momentum (thus also answering the question of skydivers).
So she, as with all else, counting myself, couldn’t offer satisfying reason why a people could not, based on all of our given evidence, live on clouds.