Close your eyes; you are there. The entire city is simmering at your feet.
When I die, I will choose to return a pidgeon. I will live my days roosting the steel beams of the Eiffel Tower and I will feed on the crumbs of croissants. I will know the words for awe in every human language. The wind will blow and my feet will hold firm, rooted to cold metal and nothing but my feathers will be moved.
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