Motion Sickness

6D06 Leung Ka Wai (2023-24)

With nothing holding you back, would you still tread into the vast unknown?

I looked at the gate as if it were posing an absurd question. Yet, I hesitated. "It was unlike the old man to leave the cage unlocked," I wondered. "He has always kept an eye on it..."

The old man in question was John, once an aspiring lad  whose aviator dreams were put to a halt due to a chronic illness. We first met when he bought me from a market, and I had been in his presence ever since. He used to tell me how his life was cut short, how he felt so lonely, how the doctors advised him to stay at home - oh, woe is me!

In a similar manner, we were both trapped. He, confined in this house surrendering to sickness, and I, inside this cage looking pretty.

Maybe he had had enough, when several moments earlier, he fumbled with the key, and 'snap!' went to the bars. I didn't dare to move a feather, anticipating the routine of cleaning the cage, which was not entirely out of the ordinary. However, none of that usual activity took place. The flickering bedroom lights and a door slam marked the end of the day– though it was unusually early.

He never came to greet me in the morning, either. Maybe he simply slept in. Maybe the medication took a toll on him. Perhaps he was too bedridden to hear the thundering calls or answer the banging door.

The cage remained open, beckoning me to embark on an adventure in the outside world. Beyond the balcony, the fences seemed like an oasis, a paradise my pea-sized brain could have never fathomed. It was easy to indulge in fantasies until I attempted to unfurl my pristine, untouched wings that had never experienced flight. Trying to wiggle my legs yielded no results, as I struggled to summon the courage required for that daring leap of faith.

So I glanced around. A solitary pill jar stared back at me. Not far away, a million shards of glass lay scattered on the ground, with fragments bearing distinctive stains of crimson, all left to evaporate under the unforgiving sunlight.

I connected the dots, and it became as clear as day - John was allowing me an opportunity to escape. All those times he shared his lifelong aspiration to become a pilot, how close he had come to piloting his own plane... they were now shattered dreams. Until that moment, I couldn't determine whether this act was one of mercy or cruelty, granting me the chance to live out his dreams while carrying the weight of it all.

As soon as the front door was wrenched open, I took off in a spontaneous burst of energy. There was nothing holding me back, and anywhere my wings would carry me would be enough.

Soaring above the concrete jungle, I struggled to comprehend why John had yearned for this world so intensely. What was so alluring about these cold and artificial structures? Wouldn't it be more fulfilling to stick with what was familiar? As absurd as it may sound, I could sense John nudging me towards a different path, back to the very home I knew so well, yet now felt unfamiliar. I had no desire to revisit the sight of my lifeless owner or the sheltered life we had once shared.

In the grand scheme of things, there was neither mercy nor cruelty in John's decision. He simply bestowed upon me the freedom to choose what was best for myself. And now, I have discovered my solace in a resting spot atop a polished granite headstone, which calls out to me after my long day of travels.

Wouldn't it be too quixotic? Whatever.