I was crying over a seagull. The stiff breeze, streaming from the sea, encouraged the flow of tears.
The seagull was standing on its one good leg, unaware of my distress.
The more it wobbled in the wind, the more I cried.
My emotional compassion towards this bird was totally unreasonable. It’s disability was creating a lachrymose drama, where I am playing a starring role.
I wanted to pick up the bird and nestle it in the security of my warm winter coat.
I wiped my eyes, in a vain attempt to stop the tears. My movements disturbed the seagull.
It hopped to the left, then flew off the cliff and never looked back.
I watched it fly away as far as my blurred vision allowed, picked up my two sticks and very carefully heaved myself off the bench.
Originally Published: Sensorially Challenged
