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Of Jays and Dreaming

I met a friend tonight. We chatted over a bottle of Montepulciano and some pizza and she told me about a recent day with her parents. She's looking out the window, with her boyfriend, at her parents' garden, her mother at her side. She tells her mother how beautiful she thinks the jay in the nearby tree is. In the back of her mind / off to one side / hardly noticing it, she hears her father slip from the room. Then, as they watch, my friend appalled, her mother passionless, the sound of an airgun is heard from upstairs and the jay drops lifeless to the ground. Moments later the jay's partner appears on the fence above the ground where the lifeless bird lies, and stares. My friend's father reappears from upstairs - he's had the airgun for a year or so.

Jays mate for life.


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And now here I am, another unimaginative ass, posting it on the web and ensuring that both my readers are pissed off and bored. Only it does have a new urgency now doesn't it? I mean with The Orange One in power it becomes resonant again…

Waltercio Caldas

Portrait taken at Cecilia Brunson Project, Bermondsey.

From Wikipedia:

Waltércio Caldas Júnior (born 6 November 1946), also known as Waltércio Caldas, is a Brazilian sculptor, designer, and graphic artist. Caldas is best known as part of Brazil's Neo-Concretism movement as well as for his eclectic choices in materials.