sábado, 19 de dezembro de 2020

Version 2.229

Friday, one week before Christmas. And then we wait to do it again on New Years'. In three weeks we will see how we will have fared. Sometimes it feels that all we do is wait. Not that it would be different otherwise.

During the day, when I come downstairs to grab coffee, I look out the windows to see the birds in the garden. Sometimes there are none; others it feels like a huge party, with quarreling and flying from branch to branch. I could stare at them for hours, even though they only stay a few minutes. But while they are here, they fly with such eagerness as they search for the juiciest morsels of food. They are free, while we are not.

My neighbor and I ran some errands this evening, including picking up two parakeets that she is planning on offering to her Mother. At the pet store, standing in front of the cage full of animals waiting to be bought, I felt sheer horror, even though these are not animals that would survive in the wild. It felt more humane to only look at the wild birds, rather than keeping captive ones. But it is actually the other way around: capitivity is what humans do.

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