Posts Tagged ‘Bird’

Return of K

In Presentation, Production on November 9, 2011 at 10:18 am

We’re in the living room. Laptopping.

K is browsing fashion sites and I am doing an obsessive compulsive circuit of my usual haunts; making sure things are alright on the social networks, repeatedly. If you add enough of them to your armoury then by the time you’ve checked them all it can seem worth popping back to the first, in case anything has happened there in the meantime. And then the second…

I emit the odd snort if, for example, something I have done or said or said that I’ve done, and which I consider to be perfectly likeable, has not been liked. Or re-liked. Or sub-twitted. That kind of thing. K says something but I fail to take it in as I search for human interaction on the little screen in front of me.

Not a tweet. I have no private or direct messages. No hopeful, blinking icons, flashing notifications.


I peel my eyes painfully from the web and look up. The long white curtains are billowing – we’ve had a temperature drop and the air is genuinely fresh and a little cool. I’m sitting here in a woolly jumper! Good Irish weather, I told my students today, and they laughed. I’m certainly overdoing it with the jumper, but still. More

A Starling In The Apartment

In Production on July 20, 2011 at 11:32 am

We’ve been having encounters with birds.

Orphaned on restaurant tables. Dying contentedly in the street. Swirling like an airborne spin cycle round the Courtyard of the Lions. Adorning the skies above Tarifa in tiered rank – by echelon; the eagle, the vulture, the hawk and falcon, the kestrel, the stork, the swallow.

They’re everywhere.

They hang over the hills, hovering in strong head winds; flit amongst the houses, amongst the trees; glide over the water, pad along the sand. Arced flight paths are etched into the air above us like a web woven in three dimensions – a net of intersecting curves and turns. Their song is the music of our days; melody in even our silences.

It’s a bit annoying. A proper silence would be nice from time to time.

The terrace is covered in shit.

At least in the cool, pleasantly dim rooms of our thick-walled apartment we are safe from the swooping, singing, feathered, shitting things. This is not their domain; it is ours. Until today that is.

It started this morning with a sound. More