Icarus

They will call it a tragedy, an accident. My father will, I am sure. He never understood. He didn't really suffer; he was a valuable guest, and you can't truly imprison someone who lives inside their own head. He had paper and wood and glue and that's all he needs.

You can't know what it's like to feel the touch of wind on your face and know that soon you will have to go back, down to the ground, plodding like a beast.

It's unbearable.

It was not foolishness.

I chose to fly, to fly as high as I could...

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