The truth is, I lost the feather that I left behind and I can’t seem to forget about it. I know I should fly but why can’t I move, and I can’t stop thinking about it. It is long gone and I’m already gone so why do I still harp on it. Oh, maybe it’s because I can’t stop the course of actions that follow from it.
As the days grow longer and the night become shorter, I am starting to get a hang of reality. But which reality am I getting a hang of? The act of pulling me out of my routine and throwing me into this black void is scary.