C142 swirling

"..." He had imprisoned us in the canary's cage, but he saw us as prey, the heavy purple-gray shades drawn down, the day dark but quiet, the seven tall, narrow glass bottles by the bed their habitat, their black leather collars locked around their necks, and they had to stand alert like owls to keep their collars from tightening and cutting off their breaths. Even so, it is still calm