RWS Jour 80
The man from the Walser bookstore arrives to introduce me to his new friend, Robert. Robert is a pigeon whom he has made kin with just an hour earlier. She flew to his side, likely wounded and in search of aid, and has yet to leave. We sit in the ambassade for an unquantifiable amount of time, discussing the energetic influence of birds. I grew up with what one could call an adversity towards birds. They were creatures I felt so far from in my human body, that I had little interest in pursuing an interaction with them. It was not until the age of sixteen in which I fell in love with my first bird, whom I would visit daily at the Veteran’s center which had a sanctuary for birds rescued from trafficking. (A lot of birds get trafficked through the LAX airport, as it as one of the closest entry points to Central and South America) Bobby was a parrot that had plucked out all of his feathers due to the trauma he had endured. I would visit him daily and sing songs to him while he bobbed up and down, dancing if you will. His name probably came from this gesture. I am not sure what came of him, but I did recount this story to Delphine yesterday during our walk to Evilard, in which we passed by a bird sanctuary. We sat singing to them, and then played back a recording she had made of them earlier this summer. We were not quite sure if that was a pleasurable or torturous experience for them, and halted shortly after the period of indecision. Robert was the second bird I become enchanted with, and I sit with her peacefully pecking at my ear and climbing on my head. I indulge in the companionship on a new friend with whom I do not have to speak.