“I met a boy and he told me a story. There was a lady long ago who spent her life coughing up feathers. And one day when she was gnarled and gray, she stretched from a woman into a black bird. From then on dusk held her in its thrall and night's great yawning mouth swallowed her whole. He told me this and then the boy kissed me with vinegar lips from the chips he was eating and I decided that this was my favorite story of all. That I wanted to be a bird when I was gray. ... After that, how could I not run away with him.”
Book:Migrations