to be a bird in france

Heyy,

 Sorry about the delay, I have been in the land of croissants and frogs legs (France) on holiday! And while driving there, I wrote this in the backseat of the car.

Watching the raindrops race each other down the window, I catch sight of a swallow flying alongside, dipping and soaring like the notes of the scale, carefree and unobtrusive, to the sounds of cogs turning the possibilities of my imagination.
I’d love to be a bird. What would it be like to be a swallow? Or any other kind of ornithological specimen? To have wings and a beak?

To have no cares about work, deadlines, world peace, your future career path, poverty, discrimination, single-ness, morality, education, debts, wars, ethics, clothing, crime, drunkenness, rights, status or any of the other downsides specific to the human race.

To be able to fly and see the whole world below you go wherever you want whenever you want without having to get a driving license, and not worrying about what people think of your clothes or image because everyone would be in the same feathery boat!

Admittedly there is the possibility of being gruesomely captured, torn to shreds and eaten, feathers and all by some carnivorous beast.

Hmmm…

The raindrops catch my eye again- 2 particular ones, parallel to each other trying to race to victory down the window. I choose the raindrop on the left as my winner. As a child I used to while away the hours of a long drive by choosing 2 innocent droplets to race, with gravity helping their way down the pane. Presently, Left Drop is winning. Seems silly now, racing the rain, like wanting to be a bird.

The tempestuous weather seems to be getting worse, and as I blink, the raindrops blur into one.

I’ve lost sight of the sparrow.

Jx