start As many other stories, it begins with something that "I have a friend who bought a bird with colorful wings. Proud of his find, buy or invest, looked empty your wallet, and smiled." impressive, "he said." This will give color to my life
At home, put him into his new cage. The bug, happy, jumping from one club to another and from one gate to another. peeping their new environment glance. whistling and shaking his head as if humans say "maybe".
That was his name taken: Maybe.
may give perfectly good morning, and painted the sunrise and stay with their plumage, their movement and vitality. The joy that emanates from a caged slut still do not know when it is.
Moved My friend said, "I'll let it fly and hover around here. You'll feel good, continue happy, and I'll enjoy watching it, watching."
He spent some time walking around the living room, kitchen and bedroom. Jumping from one side to another, leaving behind a trail of color.
The owner was pleasantly surprised to see that perhaps he returned to his cage, went in and out, over and over, like a beautiful dance, or ritual in which he showed that he knew fully their territory, and its mission.
Valiente, opened the window and the bird perched on the railing of the balcony and rose out, flew off to the shoulder of a neighbor who was walking in the park across the street. And the shoulder to a branch, on a shelf, and from the balcony.
He was my friend, there, stiff, for a while watching the scene. But suddenly he began to feel that the more fluttering, the more you away ... but no fear was in return. Certainly
a while the animal returned to its cage and rested quietly in his trough. He kept waving his 'maybe' as a greeting.
My friend looked at him seriously, and decided to close the door, still not knowing what really caged.
fear now felt different. Fear not watch it fly. And excusó pensando "Es posible que otros tambien lo consideren atractivo y pretendan quedarselo. Es probable que olvide su pertenencia, su camino de vuelta.... Cabe la hipotesis de que al final se agote de sus andaduras, y luego no quiera volar de regreso a la casa, con lo cual yo perdería su precioso vuelo, su rastro multicolor", se justificó.Pero lo cierto, es que dentro de la jaula tambien lo perdía. Ya no había aleteo multicolor.
Tal vez siguió saltando encerrado en su jaula, un día y otro,y otro tambien, hasta que sus plumas de colores empezaron a caer, y fueron mudadas por unas blancas y grisáceas. Tambien dejó de menear la cabeza, de dar los buenos días...ahora, sólo parecía decir adios.
And he lived and lived in the cage, without gloss or color, receiving his food, his attention, all the while continuing to be a caged bird leaving behind one bird, the color of the wings.
how about you, what color have feathers?
pd. the image is Mingote.
