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for Ted Sparrows flit amongst the rhododendrons, causing the bloated white puffs to bob at the ends of their willowy stalks. Just above, a single bird perches on a bare stick of the Japanese maple. Stricken with some disease, the right half of the tree has been stripped of leaves as if it has suffered a stroke. This lone sparrow hops from twig to twig, one last, skittish thought ricocheting about the withered hemisphere, watching its brothers dart effortlessly in and out of the young, healthy blossoms.