Every day, roughly an hour before dusk, hundreds of brown-black, ratlike birds take flight from all corners of the city to convene upon a single tree in the town plaza, with the ostensible purpose of making was much noise as they possibly can; their chirps and trills growing louder and steadier as the sun sets, converging to a single, unending scream, matched in temper by the scarlet sky. I don’t know what draws them to this particular, centrally-located tree, or why they feel the need to make so much noise (I am want to label it an act of civil disobedience, an assertion by the birds that while they cannot control the city, they retain the power to annoy all its residents), but today one of them shat on me while I was eating, so war has been declared.
Also in the square tonight was a clown, the same as last Sunday evening. This clown has been the only performer I’ve seen in the plaza, and is evidently quite popular. Some Jungians on Wikipedia claim the role of the clown has typically been filled by a priest or other religious figure as a profane inversion of stiff-necked ecclesiastical order. I personally find the concept of a clown who’s also a priest to be even scarier than that of a regular clown, but simultaneously believe that there should be more juggling acts incorporated into church.
Not much else new today. I read a bunch of short stories in an effort to find something interesting and level-appropriate for my conversation class. I found a couple that will work, but more is always better; if you have any favorite short stories with relatively simple language, feel free to send them my way.
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