I used to live near the Dnieper River with chemical songs. Once a pack of large boys beat me up until I cried. They said they wanted to look at my tears under a toy microscope. I don’t know whether they had sisters who were handsome like bearded reedlings or mothers who wore scoop-necked sweaters in warm winters. But I know why a snail wears a helmet. I know why a bird will die of asphyxia if it does not sing.
