LYDIA finally finished the wings, took them to the highest point in Philadelphia, the William Penn statue above city hall. She stepped out on his shoulder, wings in place. Taking a deep breath, raising her arms high and wide above her head, she slowly leaned forward into the wind. Sweeping down among the windowed buildings she knew it was going to work, a breeze coming up Market Street caught her from below, lifting up, up over North Broad street, over the Masonic Temple,still higher. People below pointing and gasping... sweeping around the square coming to rest gracefully on the Eagle statue at John Wanamaker's. A rush ran through her blood, she felt transformed, looking down, the white feathers were no longer connected by wires, but actually growing in beautiful rows up her arms, an arc of downy wings. She was becoming flight. A silver bird with the patina in place, watch gears and parts, a small brass top hat. The number 6 on her chest is an 1800's tin tobacco tag. Part of the chain is made up of an old rosary.
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