Birds fall from the window ledge above mine. Then they flap their wings at the last second. I can see their dead weight just dropping like stones or small loaves of bread past my window all the time. But unless I get up, walk across the room and peer down below, I don't see their last second curves toward a horizontal flight. Now due to a construct in my mind that makes their falling and their flight symbolic of my entire existence, it becomes important for me to get up and see their last second curves toward flight. It's almost as if my life will fall unless I see their ascent.
 Shiki the Forsaken Prince · Mon Dec 05, 2011 @ 08:09pm · 0 Comments |
