It was one of his useless ones,
but beautiful, wooden wings.
He recognized her.
He had done many after that
and his technique had improved,
but still, there was something special about it.
In that piece of wood, there was something of him.
Your wishes, your questions.
Did it make sense to make wooden wings,
that are not suitable for flying?
Even if it had no apparent logic,
felt it was important to him.
He reached for his knife and began to go over details.
and to soften shapes.
That cadence of cuts returned.
The shape was gradually softening.