Undulations became your mother language. As you touched the blue curtain, a sparrowbird cruised the polarized blue, out for currents only a coaxed friend can bring. The wind did not disappoint flamboyance in full flare, swaying even the cotton-white blanket of a sizzling August gone grey. You withstood its teasing, faced its blunt challenge as metal cradled itself in a tornado’s sprawl— a plane breathing life, out for zest before calling mayday. It crashed into the vortex it had nurtured with praise You washed adrift on Galápagos shores, only to be crowned in glory for misadventure. Venice learned your name as you embarked on your last tour as game.