Perhaps, we have art as a consolation for being unable to fly...
Dreams of flying are auspicious (I miss those). Observing pigeons, and reading the saints has afforded me quite a bit of opportunity to mull over wings, both physical and metaphorical.
Here are a few aphorisms of mine:
At a certain altitude, if our wings are large and powerful enough, there is no need to flap them - we simply soar. * To remain in fine, flying form, our wings require careful, constant grooming. * Wings are needed not only to fly, but also to keep our balance.
—y. lababidi, author of Desert Songs
