i haven’t decided if i regret inviting the neighborhood pigeons to feast on my balcony. they came, they conquered, and my bird feeder was violated in such a way that it surely suffers from ptsd. it probably dreams of light sparrow pecks and seemingly weightless warbler bodies after the brutal force delivered to it by starving pigeonfolk. but i live on the fifth floor in a busy zone 2, and garden warblers are hard to come by in these parts.
so much for my tray of squash seedlings – trampled into oblivion, mercilessly tortured by dirty claws and deformed knobs. i feel sorry for the plants but nothing is more depressing than pigeon knobs. i shed tears over current human affairs but i absolutely break down over hobbling pigeons.
and when they have two knobs and no feet at all? might as well check myself into therapy.
visions of a lame bird stumbling about in london bridge’s rail station haunt my thoughts even now.
god, i write a lot about pigeons.
. . .
on another note.
i am happy to report that the sun has returned to the city. it smells like london again, which sounds strange but it is an accurate statement for me to make.
science tells us [in a source that i won’t bother looking for now] that smells are more ingrained into a person’s neural circuitry than visual memories. i first came to london and to europe in the summer of 2012 – at that point i had no idea that i’d eventually come back to stay. warm london smells like the london i met in 2012, and breathing it in evokes a similar reaction to remembering a past lover. it’s so inspiring.
this past weekend was uplifting – healing, even – after such a dark winter season. when the sun comes back, it’s like a puff of albuterol into struggling lungs, like that first rainfall after scar and his pack of hyenas had obliterated the pride lands into desolation, debris, and death.
as far as weekends go…
this one was good.
welcome back, warmth.
you have been desperately longed for and missed.