Authors:
  • From across the woods, as if by common accord, birds left their trees and darted upward. I joined them, flew amount them, they did not recognize me as something apart from them, and I was happy, so happy, because for the first time in years, and forevermore, I had not killed, and never would.

    George Saunders (2013). “Tenth of December: Stories”, p.57, Random House