Our lives are like birds.
Sometimes they fly together, sometimes one is above the other, or below, but ultimately every bird falls from the sky.
And yet, we somehow still see them, always flying, even after they disappear.
When they don’t return, we can only hope that they’ve just flown away.
(inspired by a conversation with Ivonne on 13 Sep ’17)
I’m the son of Patrick of Meadows.
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