Flightless Bird.

photo by Leif Anderson


When I fly, I soar. I flap to get to the right height and then look down at the ground and glide around with my arms out stretched in airplane mode. Every once an a while, if I dip too low, I have to flap my arms again, just like a bird to return to cruising altitude. At least that's how it is in my dreams.
I wish, wish wish, to be able to fly.