This is Interstellarlove

The cook took the dead body of the bird, chopped it, boiled it and prepared it for the captain who was strangely sitting in his cabin in silence, with white eyes. Once the cook finished with the preparations he took it personally to the captain’s cabin place it on his desk. The captain ate it like any other food it is. The taste was excellent. The boy sat miserably on deck with the rest of the men, some of them hardly spoke, they were just bedazzled what just had happened. Then all of a sudden, the captain who was silent came out of his cabin in an ecstatic state. "Any of you want that bird’s meat?" the captain said, looking around at his men on the deck. "Not me," the cook said. "I think I'll go down the deck." "Me, too." Another crew said. "I'll best be getting to my work," said another crew member. The captain watched them go. Some of the others excused themselves. "What do you suppos...

The boy before heading to the kitchen, converse with the bird. "So you see," the bird said, "we have a common myth. Your mind contains many familiar myth symbols. Odysseus to me is by far the most interesting to me…" The boy took a seat on a barrel, postponing heading to the kitchen and sat silently, staring at the bird on his shoulder. "Go on," he said. "Please go on." "I find in your Odysseus a figure common to the mythology of most self-conscious races on this earthly plain. As I interpret it, Odysseus wanders as an individual, aware of himself as such. This is the idea of separation, of separation from family and country. The process of individuation is it not?" "But Odysseus returns to his home." The boy said looking at a hole at the bottom of the gangplank into the blue wide ocean. "He finally he goes home." "As must all creatures. The moment of separation is a temporary period...

The bird eased itself and stood on a cabinet in the corner of the captain’s private room with a sigh. "You must forgive me," it said. "I'm afraid I'm addicted to various forms of relaxation. When one is as old as I…" The Captain nodded impatiently. He sat down at his desk and folded his hands. "All right," he said. "Let's get started. You're a bird, and not a demon? Is that correct?" The bird shrugged. "I suppose so. That's what you would call us, the natives used different language but I guess “bird” would be the same exact term. I mean, my kind, we have our own term." "You speak the natives’ tongue? And how do you speak English? You've been in contact with Englishmen before?" "Our kind have been in contact with all vary type of humans before sir, but this is my first time in contact with an Englishman." "Then how do you do it?" "Speak English...

The ship took off from the island, away from the villages and into the ocean. The boy and captain Dean headed to the ship’s kitchen, where lies the old crooked hunchback, grey-haired cook lies with his pot and other cooking tools. "Good Lord," the cook said. "What is it?" "The boy says it's a special kind of bird," Dean said. "It belongs to the boy." Captain Dean has the bird in his grasp, the bird pants in tiresome. "What's the matter with it?" the cook came over and observed the bird. "Is it sick?" They watched. The bird rolled its eyes mournfully. It gazed around at the men. "I think it's thirsty," the boy said. He went to get some water using the palm of his hands as a bowl, the bird sip the water. The captain shook his head. "Let's have a look at it." The captain pulled away the bird from the boy, squinting critically. "You got this from the native, y...