They act as if they had never heard the question before. The what? they say. The air? What about it? We smile and rephrase the question. What does the air feel like to you, you being a bird, able to fly and all? Finally they seem to understand, and they meditate on this awhile. And then they begin: The air to us is a brother, a sister. We are intrigued, and lean in closer. The air, they continue, now quieter. We lean in yet farther. They peck us in the eye and laugh wickedly. Birds are bastards, every one of them.
Dave Eggers, How the Water Feels to the Fishes (56, How the Air Feels to the Birds)