Take a good look at what I am here to tell you. This world never forgives failures; it's true. You know well that losers like me are not indispensable in this pit of hell; But believe me now if I also say to you that the mediocre reach even lower in their dignity, and that they will never be visionaries or prophets, even if they are called the vanguard, the wild parrots, the macaws. There is a difference. Because you can be a big loser and suffer in this world, of course; and you can get the general consent and be an excellent mediocre and common bird, accommodated, adjusted to the time in which we live, thus, pious and acclaimed by the aviary. Cheered for no reason. I'd rather starve to have to lower myself to that world of things. Although for the rest of the flock it is excellent to be well off.

And you have been telling me in your letters that you are, by the way, still a pigeon, an apprentice, someone who is not yet ready to fly. I think that attitude is noble, and more than expected in a guy with few feathers: really something truly valid, and most of all, brave.
Now, I can hardly advise you at all, you know; Or rather, just maybe a few important things about us birds.
I consider that flying is something that uses many failed attempts, of being there, firm, in the face of emptiness, with fear of being wrong, of stumbling. I think it is an exercise that is very similar to an obsession. Trying to fly where we really want is ... like looking for air in a closed box. And what I can or cannot teach you, however, will have little to do with the success that the bird world proposes.
If you are looking for practical advice on getting into circulation, waste your time with me. What could I teach him… ?; look where I am. Nailed in this gray cage that represents my whole life; I always lived (a bad life) on loan, getting drunk on the idea of ​​being me and not compromising with the world of birds, flashes, interviews. I never sold myself to a norm; I never asked permission to be. Although that brought me a lot of plucking.
But still there is something that I can tell you. Many make that mistake early in their pigeon life. He had already sent me news of his first flight: if I were you, as the first action I would erase the first three attempts from memory, because in my opinion they speak of what common birds are like; but not from yourself. A bad bird, a mediocre one in fact, is built from a silly bird that does not forget to light its plumage to show the light of its royal turkey; I mean, who for wanting to be boastful loses their balance, they confuse the horizon and turn the anecdote into a fall. To be a condor at least modest, regardless of whether it will have tops or not, you would have to take the trouble to be a secret sparrow first. Start by thinking as if you were an anonymous bird yourself. That will help you forget about fear.
It will be asked now then about the others. Forget the men, the potential bird killers you might have; they add nothing to the life of flying. If you follow this advisor, and if you think that this letter is going to bring you the key to a great deal of freedom and life, then forget everything: you see. I am a failure.
But if after all this, you insist on wanting to be good, think about your dreams, the ones that somehow or other are in your head. They are the true goals.
Now, and by way of farewell, I urge you to send me with the next letter some kind of birdseed to make ends meet. I will be grateful.
Yours, the vulture