A Word on Kites:

They're such an intriguing benefit of physics. A kite, if one should venture to personify, is forever caught in a fervor to escape the imprisoning string tied to its chest. "If only I could loose the damn thing," it says, "I could fly this chicken coop." And yet, by an unfortunate and very ironic law of force, it is the cumbersome cord itself which allows the kite to fly so high. The selfish tugging by both parties-- the yearning kite and the captor, the kite-flyer, eager to keep its prisoner in possession-- creates an antagonism on which the very existence of kite-flying depends. So, you see, there is equilibrium and beauty in the struggle.

Anyone for a metaphor?