The island, below me, is tiny and very beautiful, a jade gem in the blue sea.
I am soaring high in the sky, dancing on the gently breeze, while flocks of gulls divert from their path to come to mob me, like I am a true raptor, now.
When I fly, these days, I am happy.
They are the only moments when I am. My “bird brain”, like Dirk would call it, takes on, and all the crap that usually make my mind fades away.
.
.
.
All the moral questions now seems stupid. I need to kill to live. I have to be faster. I have to be stronger. I have to be smarter.
Or I will be dead.
Just like the eagle.
.
.
.
In a few hours I will be back in Italy. For the first time since one year and three months ago.
