“I had a pure white baby bird. I tried to give it to a favourite pupil, an old boss, but the bird was insistent on me, me, me: I was what it had seen first from the egg.
I accepted finally the impossibility of diverting its need, its hunger, of giving it away to another for care: It was my lifelong labour. On waking, knowing this my own soul and mine for safe-keeping.”
Tanya Shadrick, 42 (UK)