23 April 1987
I watched the birds.
I watched as they raced to go eat their recently departed compadre.
I watched as they fought greedly over peice after peice of his mangled body.
I watched as I had watched for the last 4 years of my life.
As I had since I was 4 years old.
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5 June 1983
I took turns pushing the trolley with Rosie.
Rosie, Oh Rosie, how I miss her so.
We walked along the path down to the little pond just outside the village.
We were catching Salamanders.
As we sat on the side of the pond looking for the little buggers, I heard a ruckus.
I looked over and saw a flock of birds swarming in and out of a general area of the street.
Rosie and I walked over.
"Charlie, let's go, we ought not to be here."
"Hush Rosie, I want to see.....Move over Rosie!"
Rosie covered her eyes as the birds swarmed down to take the dead bird to peices.
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28 March 1992
I took out my sketch book to add a new addition to my Death of the Birds section of drawings.
You see, all I had been sketching for the last year in a half was these birds.
I'm rather fond of the way they potray themselves. So free, so sure, yet so greedy and and coniving.
They can fly, yet use their abilties to betrey their brothers.
I've often fantisised about being as free yet so deceiving as a bird.
You look at them and think, " My, they're such gentle creatures", when after hours, as soon as they see blood, they don't care if you're family, friend, mother, they attack.
Rosie and I had become a little more distant.
After a while she thought I was weird.
I may as well be.
I'm not much of a people person, Ive found comfort in my thoughts and birds.
I don't need people.
As long as I keep sane, I'll be fine.
