Little and Littler Bird sing at my window. Little Bird's vision begins to fade. Littler Bird denies it. Littler Bird fears it. Littler Bird continues to sing. Little Bird's lungs are stronger than Littler Bird's. But Little Bird is fading, fading fast. Littler Bird begins to sing even louder now. Littler Bird's inexperienced voice is shrill. Littler Bird is crying.

Little Bird, however, is not dying. Little Bird sings softer. Softer comes with age and rage, but also with grace. Littler Bird will learn such grace in the face of such a loss. Little Bird, says Littler Bird, can you hear me...

Can you hear me...

Can you hear me...

Yes, of course I can hear you, rebukes Little Bird. Don't stop singing. I don't have eyes but I can still enjoy the song. Never stop singing...

Never stop singing...

Never stop singing...

I open the blinds. The birds fly away in fright. I hate birds.