We are forever finding proof of the incredible insignificance of everything we are. We are nothing more than the pollen off the trees, only scratching the surface of such a thick layer of being. The transfer of energy and electrons we see, the blue light between the plug and the outlet, is only a remarkably tiny scale of the lightning we live under. What else is out there? What else makes our whole universe look replaceable and fragmentary? The whole world seems quiet. Space and time are one in the same, and all there is are sparrows. You want to tell them you won’t do them harm. You want to tell them to stay just a little while longer, and that you need their company; that specific comfort that comes from something so free and innocent. You break the silence, you move the smallest fraction, and they leave you to your thoughts to fly someplace else, someplace better. They fly together. Beautiful and strange, leaving you wishing you could go too.