winged wisdom


Hearing the seagull’s mirthful mutter, the pigeons’ hearts swelled with birdy pride. Almost inaudible over the frothy churn of metal-eating brine, they heard a voice of righteous mischief:

I shit on your wall as I fly right by.

An unexamined commonplace–a literal rite of passage–they’d all done the same about a million times. But there was an undeniable joy there. A routine reinvigorated. If the seagulls can delight in such unbridled joie de vivre, they thought, so shall we.

So shall we.

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