They may come at the end of the day, when the last rays have gone out and darkness rises. But the clouds passes. We survive after all, our sensibilities remain almost intact. Madness pecks us from time to time. The unseen bird from unknown lands. It pecks mostly at the foot of the trunk, never ascending high enough for us to take note. Maybe we avoid looking at it after all, we, who are not even sure that such a bird can exist, and even if it did, we are surely not worthy to look on it. And so we stand, breathe and close our eyes. We forget, we remember, we forget.