Looking out the window I think of all the people living this same day. The ones very far away in places I’ve visited once. The people in bars and on beaches. Then the places I’ve never even been to. The people waking up in Tibet or getting ready for a night out in Tokyo. I wonder if they’re looking out the window now. Or staring at a laptop screen. Or laughing because their daughter’s just farted really really loudly. Or they’re cold and alone. My whistle stop tour causes a ripple of sadness to pass through my stomach.
The crows caw louder and I wonder if they can think of each other this way. Do they think about other crows in other towns with other lives? Of course they don’t. They’re too busy being fucking loud and tap-dancing on my roof But then I lose my train of thought and instead wonder if a crow can hold a hammer. So I have a poo and get back to work.