"Not all that wonder are lost."
Deeply gray, heavy, thick clouds are slowly moving over my head. Lying down on the sand, I watch the bird, high in the sky, brushing the clouds with its wings. It is cruising, first in a circle, than in a curvy manner, as it is finding its way towards where it wants to go. I wonder if it knows at all where it is going, I wonder if that is at all important to the bird at this moment. It doesn’t look lost, it just looks high, and free.