The next day, I joined residents of the condominium who were stretched out beneath the sun's heavily jeweled hand, or dipping in the cool light of the swimming pool's blue waters.

A woman sitting nearby holds my attention. Dark sunken eyes beneath short black hair, she speaks a throaty French that reminds me of Edith Piaf. Although she's Canadian, and probably can't wobble a note, there's the same gravity that made the "sparrow" so attractive to men.

  I'll live gently
  As the wind, flying
  Over the town,
  My chest full of sparrows.


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