Between Brushstrokes

By felicitypapp

grounded pigeon

Sitting at Café, taking in the evening sun. Spotting a dead bird on the street. A brief moment of sadness at the sight of the lifeless body. Reaching for camera, walking over to the deanimated mass of feathers. Kneeling down, looking for the angle at which the sun reveals the iridescence.

Taking two shots, but not seeing a winner there. Getting down even further, taking three more shots spread out flat on the street. A strangely intimate interaction with the dead creature, another flash of sorrow.

Satisfied with the result, lifting myself back up on my feet. My actions rewarded with nasty looks by passersby, complete with shaking heads and curled up lips. Disdainful stares following me on my way back to the table, much to the amusement of my companions.

I've been told many times that I seem to have more empathy for animals than humans. Today that's true.

Comments
Sign in or get an account to comment.