Passing through Cubbon Park in the morning, I see men feeding crows in a mango grove. Remembered this Polish lady I met who said that pigeons make her nostalgic for home. Her strongest memory of growing up in Warsaw was feeing pigeons in the park.
Birds. They fly across our lives, unobtrusive, light, mute witnesses. They are of the earth, and of the sky. Connected, yet not connected. Roots, and freedom. Closeness, and space.
A fine balance we seek to attain, all our lives.
Nov 2003
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