They compose an incredible scenery, a living work of art. I see them coming from far away, like tiny dots, swirling, crowing and disturbing the urban landscape with their hoverings, filling the colorful sky with black splashes.
Kirki has gotten used to them and does not pay much attention to them, while Rita stretches her neck and tilts her head at every nearby flutter. I don’t know why people have misunderstood them so much. They are wonderful and intelligent creatures. Maybe humans dislike the fact that they give life to a horizon soiled by gray, lifeless buildings, maybe because they seem incongruous in a city center full of concrete.
They fly for a while, prolonging this beautiful dissonance for a few more minutes, and then finally land, babbling loudly and flapping their wings in an attempt to balance on the delicate, unstable antennae. They change positions now and then, make themselves comfortable, until all the antennae of the city buildings are occupied by loud, black birds. And after talking to each other for a while, disagreeing about matters we will never know, and after the sun falls for good, they rise again indiscreetly and loudly, marking the sky with their seemingly irregular formations one last time, and disappear as suddenly as they came, leaving the city in its familiar silence.
Whenever you feel fatigue absorbing your thirst for creation, look up at the sky and fly for a little while along with the birds. Open your wings and allow your mind to travel to all the places it couldn’t while being trapped in your body.
Only beautiful things can be born through this feeling of freedom. That’s how the pieces of the new season came to life, all of them unexpected, playful and most of them unique, made after a short flight over the city.
