I am the black child of a white father, a wingless bird, flying even to the clouds of heaven. I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me, even though there is no cause for grief, and at once on my birth I am dissolved into air.
What am I?
A man is lying dead in the middle of a clearing, in the middle of a forest, in the middle of a puddle, in a scuba suit. How did he die?