Living on the highest floor of a building has some drawbacks, especially if it’s August, a hand fan is the only way you have to cool down, and half the day southern sunbeams paint the rooftop yellow. Also you may sometimes find the lift busy with neighbors moving out or moving in, or perhaps an out of order note hanging on, usually when your bag is full of hardcover books, power adapters, juicy oranges, and hard disks. But, despite that, everyone knows the best views of the city always include roof tiles.
Some evenings I pull out my turquoise marker and retouch the horizon, push the clouds with my breath and set the skyline for a sunset to my liking. Those are the advantages of living closer to the sky, the kites are at my fingertips and my wishing waves take less to be received.
A few days back I was stirring my coffee when a strange tune slipped through the kitchen windows. It was a bird, but not a native one. Its shiny feathers were tousled and its piercing eyes were gingerly rising up, maybe lost, maybe trying to guess the right direction of flight. I knew it had escaped from a cage when it looked at me as if looking in a mirror. After four long seconds it stopped singing and took off.
If you love something, set it free… Everyone knows that line. It was posted somewhere in this flat by my eldest sister, when she was a college student and young people still wrote things on real walls. That bird has gained its freedom since the day it first raised its eyes. God loved it to begin with, right? Maybe the cage was accidentally opened by some random hand, or it could have been unlocked by an innocent one. Perhaps that bird felt in love, rare miracle, with something that loved it back.
