On my way to the market I follow the sun-kissed sidewalk that leads me along the blossoming trees. There, right there, lies a little pigeon on the cobblestones. Her eyes are still open… whatever happened to her must have happened just a moment ago. It looks like she might blink and look up at me. But she does not move, so I gently wrap her in a paper bag and carry her to the woods nearby. I can feel her warmness against my skin. When I find a quiet spot underneath the ancient dune oaks, I bury her there – blue feathers on cold, dark earth.
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