lunes, 13 de diciembre de 2004
For the last few days, a pigeon comes to sleep by my window. I can hear it singing now (well, making noise or whatever you call what pigeons get out of their throats) I heard it singing, and I thought I had to write about it. For it is really strange that suddenly, in the middle of the night, when you are reading and writing around in complete solitude, when you think you have to sleep because tomorrow you gotta work, and shit how much I hate that sort of thinking; then, suddenly, a pigeon makes noise. It's there, by the window. You can't see it but you can hear it. Maybe if you stand up to see better. But no, better just go straight to bed, without going much further into the life of the pigeon and your own.