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And the Black Drongo, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
            Shall be lifted—nevermore!
Editor’s note:
Black Drongos are a local variety of birds that enjoy swooping on dogs, cats and people. Cyclists are their favorite targets, which means that every day I get constantly harrassed.
Hope is only an illusion. There is no escape.