Man is a Bird without Wings
I believe it was Louis de Bernier who once wrote that man is a bird without wings, and a bird is a man without sorrow.
The quote offers no comfort to mankind, being left wingless and sorrowful, grounded on earth and teased by fantasies of lighthearted flight.
Birds migrate south in the winter, following the sun. Those who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder might agree that perhaps the perpetual avoidance of poor weather bears direct correlation to lack of sorrow.
Wouldn’t that be the way to live, in endless summer with lives in two hemispheres? I may not have wings, but where my physical limitations restrain me, an airplane atones. I had enough of Buenos Aires’ mild winter weather, so I followed the tilted axis of our rotating earth and migrated North for summer sunshine.
I landed in Bainbridge Island, Washington, which, the locals will tell you, is the last place one should ever go while searching for sunshine. I was lucky and arrived in the right moment. When Emerald City is sunny, it is the most exquisitely resplendent far-tucked corner of the earth.
I’ll be back in BA just in time for Spring.