“Its steaming atmosphere, laced with purely technical conversation, was both bliss and torture to William. He was drawn to it like a homing pigeon to its loft, yet, once arrived, it was as if the loft door was shut and he was perched outside, only able to watch the other fat, contented pigeons through the wire mesh.”
“The routes birds follow, as they migrate southwards or northwards, in autumn or in spring, rarely cross the city. Their flights cleave the heavens high above the striped humps of fields and along the edge of woods...”