She had been living in that window for so long it almost hurt to think of a time when her hair was not miserably stuck to the cold sweating surface. She would twitch every now and then, hoping no longer for anything to happen but keeping on to that impossible to suppress retching of the muscles. She could relate to her muscles, she felt like retching constantly. For three days now, through wind and rain and those to drops of sunshine, the bird kept fighting and trying to swim, to dive, to live, to move, to evolve. And she hated the stupid bird, it reminded her of every single thing she was not. In the resignation to the window solitude, watching everything move, it could almost become believable that time stopped in the tiny life she had confined herself to.
The million people flying above her head knew where to go and what to do — if they didn’t, there were plenty signs to help them. In the room she had assigned to herself, not much different than a coffin, the only signs she could get were those of a skin disease. She could die in the following two minutes and not even the bird would know. She almost wished for that — she almost wished she could strangle the bird, but that would mean stepping back into time.
The shape of her heart changed too much for her to care about the falling leaves viagra en comprim. She sighed.
Daylight was a weird place to live in.