It has been a long journey, and you are far from home. People are talking. They call you lost, straggler, waif; accidental. Wonder.
Not to be contained by any ordinary mob, by what sensitive tentacles did you come, reading, as some say, the whole vault of heaven? What do you see, and why are you here?
Sometimes I think I have wandered so far that I forget my native tongue.
Stranger, please.
Speak.
***
Inspired by Marion Renault’s article in today’s New York Times: “These Birds Aren’t Lost. They’re Adapting.”
