In the air, a bird is a vision, not a vision of itself, but a vision of a circle, approaching a circle, a glass that reflects on water.

A bird flies into space, breaking waves, smoke circles, drawing the vibrancy of the trees, the cry of the earth, a crystalline song, a vital song.

To be alive is to live in the body of air, where love is heard in the womb of wind.

• Cecilia Vicuña