I've always had an obsession with birds, with their ability to fly, with their hollow bones and above all, their capacity for freedom. When I was a little girl, I collected feathers in hopes that I could charm them and turn into a bird of my choice. I have the memory of flight, and I do not know where it comes from. I, earthbound creature, must be content to watch as these feathered things - all air and hollow light - soar above me on the thermals above highway twenty-one out of Jacksonville. I would think they taunt me, but birds are not cruel, they are not human, and have no capacity for such things...

(I wish I could fly.)

Finished now.

I don't really have anything else to add. Sorry about the short timer?