A caged bird sings,
not to entertain
but in the hope
that its call
will be answered
by a familiar tune.
To the north: Can you hear me?
To the east: I am listening.
To the south: Are you there?
To the west: Until tomorrow.
‘I'm just tired of everything…even of the echoes. There is nothing in my life but echoes…echoes of lost hopes and dreams and joys. They're beautiful and mocking.’
- L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea
