In the city, there was a group of pigeons sleeping behind a wrought-iron fence on Clinton Street.
The odd thing was that it was 8:30 in the morning, the sun well up, and plenty of people were walking past on the sidewalk. And I usually see pigeons pecking around somewhat individually, not being communal or affectionate.
They were sleeping in! Heads tucked backwards into purple and grey feathers. Their breasts two straining lumps of bone.
I had a job interview on the seventh floor of a building overlooking Lake Michigan. I took heels in my purse to change into after the walk from the subway. I felt impressed by how thin the line between nothing and everything is.
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