. . . catching a glimpse of his rather hippyish form in a mirror, he wonders at this atavism of apparel, is it an inversion of foetal ontogeny, in which the phenotype passes through previous fashion stages? Soon there will be gaiters and gloves. . . I will probably die, he thinks, clad in animal skins.
There were birds in the sky, but I never saw them winging, No I never saw them at all, Until there was you.