Kindness is never a thing to be jealously held to the breast, but passed on to whomever is in need of it. Just so with the dove that had only known only the confines of a cage her whole life, but she felt this pair of hands to be different. The vice grip was replaced by a gentle touch that – inexplicably – released. As she roamed skies and open seas, to the lonely seafarer she became the guiding sails, coming to him in a time when scarce few would care to offer aid. Was she passing on the act of kindness, or was she the kindness herself? Some would say it makes little difference.