I woke up (or maybe not) with the wonderful song of hundreds of birds, that morning, but among them, there was one that did not sing. When I opened my window, I discovered a nightingale crying: "Why are you crying, Nightingale? -asked. "I cry for fear of extinction," he replied.
Automatically, I jumped to my inner world, and in it, gently grabbed my friend Mockingbird, I placed it in the center of my new play and wrapped with a protective shield. I played with infinite colors and textures, the melody of his song. Now fly and sing without fear, my dear nightingale.