Flight

"And is it so hard to believe that souls might also travel those paths? That her father and Etienne and Madame Manec and the German boy named Werner Pfennig might harry the sky in flocks, like egrets, like terns, like starlings? That great shuttles of souls might fly about, faded but audible if you listened closely enough? They flow above the chimneys, ride the sidewalks, slip through your jacket and shirt and breastbone and lungs, and pass through the other side, the air a library and the record of every life lived, every sentence spoken, every word transmitted still reverberating within it."

{Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See}