So last week I grumpily got out of bed knowing that it was washing day. The weather was dismal to match my mood. It was pouring down with an icey wind that came from everywhere.
So I collected the clothes in my big blue IKEA bag and forced myself up the hill, against the wind, the 100 metres to the laundry. It was hard work.
I started the machines and started to leave the building (which also has dorms and an office) but at the entrance of the building I came to a full stop.
There, huddled just inside the entrance on the floor was the most dismal pigeon I have ever seen. Its wings hung on its side dragging on the floor as if it had no strength to pick them up and I could understand her.
The pigeon was soaking wet and shivering, I have never seen a bird so wet before, it was as if someone had poured a whole bucket of water on top of her and there she sat, not knowing what had hit her and not knowing what to do. There was a puddle building up underneath her from the water dripping off her wings and tail.
It seriously broke my heart and I understood that she was trying to get indoors where it was a bit warmer but the wind was howling through the doorway and nowhere in the building was a safe haven for her. People were going in and out of this entrance - some girls screamed when they saw her pathetic being and others just saying Ooops! when they nearly trod on her. So the pigeon was very scared and dared not go anywhere I think, I also think she was so cold that she didn’t have any strength either.
So I went home with an aching heart – down the hill, against the wind.
And if you seriously think that I am a cold hearted terrible person and that I left her there to die, you are not worthy of being my friends.
I did go home alone.
But.
When I got home, I took a cardboard box (from our fuse popping oven) stuffed an old bathroom mat in the bottom and put a little container with bread crumbs and oatmeal in it.
The I took a soft pillowcase (the softest material I could find) and went back to the entrance, up the hill, against the wind, wondering if she would still be there.
She was.
And I wouldn’t say she was glad that I picked her up, but I don’t think she was very unhappy, either, to suddenly be embraced by warm soft cotton.
I put her in the box and put the box next to the radiator which was hot.
She didn’t do much, just sat there.
And in the morning she was dead.
NOOO! Just kidding!
It seriously broke my heart and I understood that she was trying to get indoors where it was a bit warmer but the wind was howling through the doorway and nowhere in the building was a safe haven for her. People were going in and out of this entrance - some girls screamed when they saw her pathetic being and others just saying Ooops! when they nearly trod on her. So the pigeon was very scared and dared not go anywhere I think, I also think she was so cold that she didn’t have any strength either.
So I went home with an aching heart – down the hill, against the wind.
And if you seriously think that I am a cold hearted terrible person and that I left her there to die, you are not worthy of being my friends.
I did go home alone.
But.
When I got home, I took a cardboard box (from our fuse popping oven) stuffed an old bathroom mat in the bottom and put a little container with bread crumbs and oatmeal in it.
The I took a soft pillowcase (the softest material I could find) and went back to the entrance, up the hill, against the wind, wondering if she would still be there.
She was.
And I wouldn’t say she was glad that I picked her up, but I don’t think she was very unhappy, either, to suddenly be embraced by warm soft cotton.
I put her in the box and put the box next to the radiator which was hot.
She didn’t do much, just sat there.
And in the morning she was dead.
NOOO! Just kidding!
In the morning she woke me up, by flapping her wings.
She was completely dry, so I took her outside, where she flew from my hands and sat on a lamppost to tidy her feathers.
Unfortunatly I was in such a distress when I found the pigeon that I didn’t have an sense to take a picture of her misery.
But fortunately for you, I am an outstanding artist so here is a picture of what she looked like before…
Unfortunatly I was in such a distress when I found the pigeon that I didn’t have an sense to take a picture of her misery.
But fortunately for you, I am an outstanding artist so here is a picture of what she looked like before…
and here's a picture of what she looked like after her ordeal:
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4 comments:
Love your drawing. Seriously.
Lovely little story. Glad it ended well. I jumped a bit when you wrote that she was dead the next morning, before i reached the "just kidding"-part :)
The most nail-biting part when was you were going back with the box, wondering if it'd still be there...
I've downloaded that drawing and put in the folder "D:\a couple of snapshots\art".
Well, I'll be damned if I'm flattered!
But easy does it, you might encourage me to do more art and then where will we be?
Actually I'll soon tell you a little about my projects that are sort of in the art department. Some silly ideas to try to make a living which start and then stop in the middle of the night in misery when I look down at my creations and think "Who the hell is going to buy this shit?"
So beware, more art coming up.
Oh, this is soooo exciting!! Pretty please, I beg you, put me (+ one) on the vernissage guest list!
One is oneself's harshest critic... unless one's biggest sycophant.
Well, the dogs bark, the caravan pass.
With the art you find crappy, you could buy adds showing it in Vogue, and then let them pay you more for not having them in their paper.
That, in itself, would be a work of art: http://www.creativereview.co.uk/crblog/how-id-sink-american-vogue/
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