Yesterday, a friend sent me a picture of a dead bird. "What is it?" the text message asked. I wanted to respond: "a goddamned tragedy", but instead "cedar waxwing" is what I said.
I know where I was when I saw one for the first time. I know where I was when I heard of one for the very first time. And then, there it was, right in front of my face - seeing one with a broken neck for the very first time.
There's something here about life and death. There's something everywhere about life and death.