and from his air-castle, he fell into the sky, undulating his wax-string-wings with ululating shouts of freedom, until he reached the sun's high zenith, where dog-eared, flea-bitten and benignly grinning, it turned his waxy feathers to red molten slush; and his newly fledged freedom cracked upon his shoulders as with a snapping twang, his wings imploded into a heaving cascade. He plummeted through the hazy dream of azure, howling.
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