Six a clock in the morning, the sky is heavy with clowds and the "Kaw Kaw" of the crows breaks through a steady background hum. Where am I?
I remember years ago, far far away, the same croaking chant of those shiny feathered dark birds. The gentle hum of the waves licking the sand. The dark monsoon clowds and the rising wet heat. Only the crows seemed well fed, perched high on piles of rotting coconut husks. I had never seen them so big.
No, no, I am not in that far away place, I am here in Paris, since then the crows have crossed the ocean and the continent, they are here and have made this their home.
I remember years ago, far far away, the same croaking chant of those shiny feathered dark birds. The gentle hum of the waves licking the sand. The dark monsoon clowds and the rising wet heat. Only the crows seemed well fed, perched high on piles of rotting coconut husks. I had never seen them so big.
No, no, I am not in that far away place, I am here in Paris, since then the crows have crossed the ocean and the continent, they are here and have made this their home.
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