An Open Letter to Andrew Bird

Hi,

I never know how to start a letter and I always say this on the begining of all my letters. 

I would like to ask you if you ever looked into a dead bird's eye. Have you ever had this opportunity? Sometimes I found myself starring at dead birds I found on my city. I don't know why but I feel like is something you should do everytime you see a bird laying on the street. I ain't saying it's a beautiful thing, a dead animal makes me sad, I'm trying to tell you how I feel about life in general. 

When you see a dead bird you had one-second-opportunity to talk with God, A God, but it's over right after you look into his eyes. You are facing a dragon who fought the hardest weather to come back home, a free spirit that flew the sky above us, some one that told the wind to be quiet with his singing.  And there you are,  close enough to almost listen to his kind words about our mistakes, but you can't. It's frustrating and beautiful if you can see beauty in disaster. But there is a thing about this kind of event that always catch me and make me always stop to face theses dead Gods: a small feeling that they will wake up and take my body and soul. Make me a tool for they next flight, use my undiscovered feathers to hide my (storytellers) scars. Maybe one day, but by now I keep giving my prayers with my eyes. They deserve a kind heart to set them free, again. 

I use to tell myself, and the others in my head, that I do theses things because I'm not afraid anymore. Not that I don't get scared and cry, but life don't close my eyes with "sad" events. A dead bird still a God to me, my scars are my life-drawings, the days I go walking alone are the days I can see into my own eyes; So, maybe, I can be a God one day. And fly. I think you know what I mean when I say that we can live with fear, but no afraid, we can walk alone, but not forget to fly alone to. If you don't know... Hmmm, I guess that's okay. Not every historian travel the same place and can explain the beauty saw in mysterious places he went to.

One day, a million years by this day, we will be able to say one kind word to them. And when this day come, everyone will be a God by itself. Not alone, but by ourselves, flying together, fighting our fears, singing against the wind. We just need to keep on living... with love, hate, sadness, happiness, fear and courage. We will live forever until this day come to our hearts. You sang me songs about stories of life and now I told you one little story about a part of my. We shared and we loved (and still love). With our hearts (we met). And one day they will be covered with beautiful long feathers.

With true love from a young heart,

Kabe Rodríguez.