To surmise, time moves in a bizarre fashion, and I apologize to my audience of three people for my laxness of punctuality. To surmise further, always listen to birds.
In a house by the sea lived a woman who talked to birds that enjoyed her song.
In a cave by the sea lived an old hermit who carved bird sculptures and brought them to life with his breath.
The birds always seemed smooth to the touch, and one day they began sending her letters.
The hermit loved the woman, he heard her singing from his cave.
So he decided to send her a letter.
The woman learned the man’s name, and asked him to visit one day.
The man adamantly refused, he was an outcast! A pariah! He shouldn’t.
But the woman insisted.
And the man relented.
And the two fell in love like those tossed from a ship
Every waking moment was spent together.
And the two lived a perfectly happy life
In the little house by the sea.
One day the woman noticed the man getting ill.
One day the man felt ill.
He died One year later.
The woman wept and wept.
But she heard, one day, a piano lightly playing within the cave.
She went down and saw that the wood of all the birds were put into the piano.
Put to life with the man’s breath. The piano played that familiar birdsong.
And the woman sang along with it.
It rose and fell and slowed and sped with her, a perfect unity.
The woman now sang from the cave till this very day.
And she was always so talented.
People often told stories of the woman and the birds, and how their song lured sailors into the sea where they drowned.
The whole business of death wasn’t the woman’s fault.
