It is gray all around him for he cannot see colors. He wishes to see the blue in the ocean, the color of his daughter eyes, his wife's hair, but he cannot. He hears the story of autumn's colors and how bright and vibrant the leaves look. He remembers one day he took a leaf and study it carefully, sliding his finger across the steam, noticing every detail. He asked himself, how can this be bright and vibrant? He crumpled the leaf in his hand and threw them on the ground.

One day he was stood on a roof, listening to the tides crash in on the shore. He had just finished repairing the roof and thought it would be nice to sit down. He looked in the distance and a bird was flying to shore. It swayed here and there mimicking the wind patterns. Free to do whatever he or she pleads to do. I wanted to shoot that bird right out of the sky and let it fall into the ocean and sink to where predators might lay. He thought, “well, why was a bird blessed with flight, free to explore above the horizon, while us are down below scavenging the world from the ground?”

That night he had a strange dream. There he was on the same roof looking out at the ocean, the bird was in flight, all around him was gray. He looks over at his sides and notices a balloon, actually three balloons holding a bridge giving enough leeway for a boat to pass through under. It was very odd to him. Then he heard a gunshot. He quickly turned around and there was himself with a gun pointing out at the horizon. He saw the bird that was once flying, gently fall into the ocean and disappear. He was in shock. He took the man who looked like him and shook him, yelling, “What is wrong with you? That bird was trying to go home, to potentially its own family, where he might have a daughter with the most wonderful eyes. That bird might have a wife with the most decorative feathers. Why take that away from the bird?