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Was this bird a migratory one? As though preparing to leave, or perhaps already flying somewhere over there. I have no telescope, nor am I some learned ornithologist. How could I possibly know where this bird is headed, what it hopes to find? Was building a nest my mistake? Or was the flight nothing but a delusion? I only wish to give that little bird a name, or to take to the sky beside it. Ah. Now I see. It has taken my heart. Did I offer it willingly, or did those sharp talons snatch it away? I return to my wooden house by the riverbank, admire the bird in my mind, write down the day's observations, roast a daydream and eat it, then resolve to fall asleep without quite finding peace.