I tasted the smoke, let it fill my lungs and proceeded to exhale, allowing the excess to swim in the air. Against the blue of the sky, the billowing cloud of grey resembled the sight just before a rainstorm. I relaxed my uneasy posture and slowly all began to get better. My pulse, breathing, and movements slowed and I could then appreciate the serene sight of the grassy sea flowing as the wind cooed and brushed against it with its subtle, delicate breath. In this moment, my thoughts only focused on what stood present before me. Pressing the cigarette against my lips, I knew in a few minutes time that this very feeling would dissolve just as the smoke I could not help but watch with attentive eyes with every outward breath. Tilting my head to the cloudless and empty sky, I noticed the soaring of a bird from above. Routine has been all the pitiful creature has known. Feeding, breeding, and migrating; that is the life of a bird. My cigarette was growing short, with the taste of its bitter end meeting with my tongue. I could no longer carry on with staring at the ground or looking up at the sky. I was subject to go back on track, to find productivity in tasks I held no interest for and to gain material prosperity in order to find myself with self sufficiency. I had to drop the end of the cigarette, exhaust its burning with a step of my foot, and go back to what I was eager to ignore. Before turning my back and walking away, I shot the sky another glance, wishing to spot the bird, for I then recognized that he and I were just the same. Working, breathing, and staying in line, I then understood what it was like to be a bird.