On the George Washington Bird Project


In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with birds.

One thing about birds.

No matter how disgusting and dirty they look walking around on the ground — especially pigeons — they are always beautiful in the air.

Sometimes at the gym — which is on the third floor — we blow off our workout in favor of watching the flocks of pigeons fly through the canyons.

They look like schools of fish, turning en masse in a fraction of a second above the heads of the oblivious pedestrians. Sometimes they’ll even reflect a shaft of sunlight.

And for a second, they seem happy to be alive.

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