Dust and mud, tensed muscles, sweat on the spine, bitter saliva. Hard to raise the sight from the way, scared to see the long way till the end.

But when I took the courage, I noticed white, pure white on the corner of the road. It was still, not moving, I wondered if it was real.

But then, in a dilated, infinitesimal break of time, he opened his wings, and the graceful heron took his flight.

I then felt it, so bright, the joie de vivre.