"O happy dagger!
This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die."
As a child of 6 years old, my mother caught me running around the garden chasing after a white dove that had flown in. 'Coco, we are going to be late, what on earth are you doing?'. She asked. 'Mummy, my beret needs a feather. And this bird has kindly left some behind'.
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