Wherever I go, I try and find a high place. From that high place, I go to the edge and look down. Then I look around, seeing how high I am, wondering how it would feel to fly over it. I spread out my arms, close my eyes, and breathe deeply. I try to focus only on my breathing, trying in vain to drown out the noise – the constant noise that drives me insane. My eyes flash open and I envision myself falling, then flying. Flying up and away from this dreadful place with all the noises and the disgusting smells. I long to see a place far above the buildings where the air is crisp and clean, flying all on my own.

Looking down again, I begin to sway back and forth, imagining what would happen if I lost my balance and fell. I might get hurt. I might die. Sometimes I smile softly, imagining… Then, abruptly, I back away and turn my back to my dream. But I know, someday, that in that final burst inspiration and longing, my body will fall. And I know for a fact that I would enjoy every second of it – until I hit the ground.