A good story is like a mirror; it reflects the soul of the listener.
You have to believe in the impossible.
I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock hem up DOES rejoice. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend.