There is a dead bird on the steps leading to my dorm. When I walked up from breakfast, I saw him there, and looked at him (or her) for a while. There was a hole straight through the side of his hide, his eyes were gone. I came up to my room and when I looked back down at the body, a crow was there pecking at it. It looked like the crow was trying to pull his head off.
That's my story.
1 comment:
when i write your biography, should i consider your blog part of your published or un-published work, and which should i regard as legitimate reflections of your beliefs, if any?
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