To me, a writer is like a man who has a cage full of birds. And whenever he releases one he hopes that it'll bring him back an olive branch. For when he lets one go, he feels as if a burden has been lifted from his mind. Yet also if the bird is particularly beautiful, he loves it, and preens it, and is nervous and scared when he lets it go.Yet if it brings back an olive branch, then there are no words to describe his joy.For like Noah the branch is a sign of joy to him, for it means that the waters that seperate him from others are receding