Honestly, I have seen more hope, and more life, in the whites in the eyes of the pigeons that scuffle and scrape at breadcrumbs and litter that line the streets.
I tell you I have seen it.
And so rather would I gift them greater coins, and let the birds continue to salvage and scrap. And more would I join them on the pavements than knock shoulders with those that live and yet are all already dead.
For we are not vultures or peasants, and nor are we pigeons;
But great, big birds.
Large and emphatic.
We just don’t have diamond wings.