The crucial minutia of the world apparent to her from her bedroom window. The way the pigeon takes off from the ground. To anyone else there is no significance, but to Yee-Wong this was everything. Imagine if you will, a pigeon taking flight in extreme slow motion. Watch exactly the way its wings expand and contract again. Watch every feather. Watch ever follicle of every feather. In these seconds the pigeon makes a thousand minute adjustments. Each particle plays a role. No one pigeon takes off the same and one pigeon never takes off the same way twice. In the grey paranoid streets men are picked up and shuffled roughly into black cars by mysterious men in trench coats and fedoras. Where they are taken nobody knows. Miss Yee-Wong can divine where they are stolen away to in the feathers left behind after a pigeon’s ascent.