Joie de vivre

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.

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