It was a proverb more eloquent than ‘snooze you lose’ for a victim made chairless. He said it swooping on my spot by the fire, quick–grinning in the flickering light and clutching his rusted prize with tight, tiny knuckles.

But after the laughter faded and the embers turned cold, the metaphor took flight. In my imagination we became the eagle and the owl, our different backgrounds and modes of seeing crossing in the dark, trading places over continents. 

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