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When I finished brewing the mate, I realised it was useless to continue disdaining it: a tiny sparrow was calling me from the vine. Cheep, cheep and more cheep, the sparrow yelled, standing in a branch, with the tail over a bunch of still green grapes. Cheep, cheep, cheep, he repeated with enthusiasm, followed by another quartet of cheeps. I gazed at him and he stopped cheeping. The light blue from the sky pushed and cornered the orange, but nothing winged there, just here, on the vine. I looked at the sparrow again and I drank a sip of mate. The small feathery creature started cheering again, but this time, he was less frenetic, as if keeping a pace, stretching some sounds and shortening others, while he beat his wings. I finished the mate in the second sip and I grabbed the kettle to brew another one, but a wing beat and the fall of some leafs made me look back at the sparrow: he was no longer there.

I scanned the vine with some angst, due to the absence of the small joyful bird.

—I am here.

He was definitely there, by my side, in the backyard’s bench. I examined the backyard, stunned, looking for somebody, but there was not anyone. The bird beat its fragile wings and got even closer.

Mate.

I stared at him and answered:

—Birds can’t drink mate. How are you planning to suck from the bombilla? I’ll get you water.

I assumed that my movements would shoo the bird away; thus, very carefully, and without taking my eyes off the bird, I woke up, looked for water and left it on its feet, on the bench. The sparrow, clearly annoyed, started yelling and cheeping, and he also beat his wings. I watched him carefully, confused, distraught. I grabbed the thermos, raised the mate, brewed it, and moved the bombilla towards my mouth, but again the sparrow went:

Mate.

—Oh right, now I got you.

I extended the mate towards the sparrow and kept it firm. He stared at me and then, very elegantly, he flew to the edge of the mate. He dipped his beak in the humid herb repeatedly, he said “thanks”, and he flew away with the same elegance he had used to arrive, towards the orange, that was already losing ground, notably overwhelmed by the dark blue.

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