Today, on the way back home, I saw a bird snuggled up to a tree. That was a kind of soft-grey turtledove. The thing is, I stopped walking and I bent down to better see the bird. It looked neglected, fragile and I almost felt pity for it. Its innocent gaze was whispering me: “Pick me up and take me away.” While my hand moved slowly forward and got much closer to the bird, it suddenly flapped its wings and settled just a bit further. I jumped with fright and, baffled by my own frustration, I kept on walking in the cold of the foggy morning.
