I heard that birds that fly through the smoke plumes of the cloud factories will fall dead. I think the birds learn to fly around. But the clouds float everywhere and become the air. The starlings are back, though there's not much to eat on the fire escape. I imagine they come to visit Olive. I heard a starling speak human language, though repeating. I don't know if a starling would compose fresh sentences, though they have their own language and it sounds like fresh air poetry.