People think that birds always sing the same melody, but they’re wrong. Sometimes birds go mad, especially at night in London, whistling like old rusty trains. I know them very well: Crying Johnny, Angry Matilda, Voodoo Marie, Badangle Tim, and Jimmy Error. I know that you think I am mad, maybe you’re right, it doesn’t hurt me, but I believe we are humanbirds. We can’t fly – it’s a fact, but there’s another scientific fact which says that birds and humans have similar brain wiring. Perhaps we got the same thoughts.
—-Last night on the bus a drunk girl glanced at me, suddenly I felt myself like a scary bird. The city was strange and familiar at the same time, somehow I saw it from above.
—-You’re still thinking about the girl, forget her, here I am in the nest, in the middle of the city, among the city lights. Keep your focus on me! Can you imagine my face? I’ll help you – there are no feathers on it, just skin, haha.
—-The skin is the most honest organ, surface in this fucking world, full of eroticism.
—-You can’t see anything on my face, I have been hiding somewhere and cannot find myself but I know where I am. I left my body, I was floating above the bus, saw my empty face through the window and I felt myself free.
—-My uncle, Jack, told me that I am a lonely bastard, I need a girlfriend, a proper job and finally that I need to find myself, but he doesn’t get it. I have been hiding somewhere, can not find myself, but I know who I am.
—-His words can’t reach me, he is a man of principles.
—-I had a dream last night, people might say a nightmare. I was a dead crow and a big, fat rat ate my wings. Does anyone like street food? – spicy crow wings, chips and shit – our new meal deal, yeah.
–
–
