WHEN THEY WERE CHILDREN, Adrien's brother owned a flock of racing pigeons. The pigeons lived in a loft atop the family's barn, and every night Adrien listened to the rub and flutter of their grey wings. Every day his brother trained them, and he watched, following his brother farther and farther away from home, across pastures, through villages, into places he had never been. Always at the moment he felt most thirsty and discouraged, his brother would lift his hands above his head and throw the pigeon into the sky. How loud the wings sounded! As loud as a thunderclap; as loud as the sound of his brother, whooping. It was the elation of this instant that made him walk such distances, in such silence. He wished one day to race pigeons of his own.