I am a flamingo.
Two years ago I met this pigeon who thought my
pink feathers were nice, so he lured me into this
small cage where he kept me as his pet. I tried
to show him that I was more than hot feathers and
long legs, but he didn't need that.
He just wanted something to look at in his free time.
The seasons changed and the pigeon migrated, leaving
me alone, feathers dulled from my days enclosed in
that trap. But I got out. I realized pigeons just
get temporarily distracted by shiny things, while
I get distracted by the things that matter, like my
family. So I flew home, where time took it's time and
my color came back.
These are photos of negatives. Sent all the way to
Kansas to be processed, the film captured tiny squares
of the dullest time of my life. When I noticed a tiny
glimmer of being pulled out of that cage, I took a
picture. Though time has passed, holding that strip
of negatives sucks me back into the very scene they
hold.
I am relieved to never live those days again.
If a time machine was invented and I was paid a
million dollars to go back, I still wouldn't do it!
NEVER!
Every now and then, I think of that pigeon.
When a bird shits on my wind shield.
