I’ve always wanted to fly.
A child, a teenager or an adult, many a time I’ve dreamt of the same dream—of being able to stretch my silky, transparent wings and dive into the sky. The cotton clouds touching my head, the crispy wind mussing my hair and this whole unclean world under my bare feet. How spectacular a view it is!
Fly I would never. Not without a pair of angel’s wings. Would their wings silky and transparent like my dream ones?
As I step one foot onto the metal rail, my head is unburdened by thoughts. Depart they all did: resentment, grief, regrets, joys. One thing remains like hope at the empty bowel of the Pandora’s Box: the perpetual joy of flight. Like hope, it lights a smile on my face.
The cotton clouds touching my head, the crispy wind mussing my hair and this whole unclean world under my bare feet.
I’ve dived into the sky.