

If You Want to Learn to Fly...The horizon tilts. The stilted Earth is laid out before him. He is dizzy and breathless, keening to and fro as blue eye roves over less blue skies. The sky is mud. It encrusts the skyscrapers. It encrusts this skyscraper, and his head is a heartbeat or maybe a drumbeat, yet no soul is marching behind him. Perhaps if he could be a cello, a melodic whine, or a piano with sharp and pure notes, perhaps then he could pierce the breast of society with his haunting solo; but no. His hollow and flat beat fades.If You Want to Learn to Fly...
His fingertips brush the asphalt as he kneels. There is nothing left. His palms are sweaty and he swallows. An autumnal breeze s
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