Had this stuck in my chest long enough, might as well get it over with.
Watched the most recent version of Spirit of the Peacock. The dancer was over 40 at the time, though she looked not a day older than 25. Despite all that, I kept thinking if that was her last time performing the dance.
For some reason, it looked like the death of the peacock to me, and it sounded like the death of the peacock to me.
All these years, the sun bird had looked for a sanctuary, but she found none. She died in a desert of infinite indifference, beautiful feathers in a mess, her proud head buried underneath them, still dreaming of the Shangri-La that was neve