Landing on
floating island of the gods without invitation, form of deafness exemplified by
reckless flying. Long lost loves caught in the tempest, as my wings clipped back
in an unnatural manner. This twist of fate and foreign weather has left me
without my feathers. Am I a chicken ready to be roasted? Surprise, surprise,
because I glance into the ethereal waters. Surprise, surprise, because here I
am staring into the silvery liquid. Too deaf to speak my own words, I open the
mouth inside my head. It says: “Daaamn! Who needs feathers anyway? I look like
some serious gourmet shit.”
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