Tucked away in a side-pocket I found a small furry creature, half bird, half rodent, and clearly expired – a snug fit for a cupped hand and galvanising nudges, if you are so inclined. Coo coo, coo coo. A leg, or limb, or spike, protruded from its tapered end. The bag’s lining bore a blush of powder, beige, with a hint of mouse. Closer inspection (no touching!) revealed a pear, feral past its prime. With a mixture of thrill and disgust, and wary of inhaling, I placed the little poser on a sheet of white and brought my camera close.
I wonder how many live tucked away in airless folds, stretch time unseen, unheard, unheeded, set apart, the mark of ashes on collected brows disclaiming worth, need, diversity. I waver, say us, say them, and us again.