Sparrow
Here's a little true story. It happened last Monday in Lincoln. It's called Sparrow. I'm not proud of myself.
And while we're on the topic of birds, I saw Jesse Birdsall walking along Upper Street in London yesterday. Marcus Tandy! I quite liked Eldorado. Despite its shaky beginnings, it shaped up to be a fairly decent soap opera, I think, and there was a 7.00-7.30pm shaped hole in my life when it ended. Anyway, he had a cheeky little smile on his face like he'd remembered something funny.
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3 Comments:
I like this story. Sweet picture of #39 holding the little bird. If it makes you feel any better: in my experience (we have lots of windows AND birds around here...) they either die at once, or fly away shortly when their head clears. Nice that you even THOUGHT of helping...miss you Buddy.
Birds are quite resilient. They have hollow bones, you know.
He'll be fine assuming something else didn't happen to him while he was dazed, like maybe a black hole opened up and sucked him into the ether. Black holes hate birds.
Jesse Birdsall's dad is the graphic designer Derek Birdsall.
At least, I think that's true. Someone told me that once. I've been unable to verify it on the internet.
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