Something about this piece.. ❤
Crows perch and build an abstract of black and sprinkling white feathers on the carcass that lies prone on the contrasting red soil and blood stains. The animal is now indiscernible. An artist would shudder at such beauty and pain all thrown in one setting.
The old man suddenly waves the flies away from his oily lips with his dark stained hand and gnaws on the fatty residue of cartilage and bone. He watches the scene unfold before him.
“They nest on the gift that is death.” he rasps to the little one squatting beside him, pointing at the evolving landscape of black,white,blue and red. The little one munches on a plump rib. It’s been while since they have seen such a feast. The old man, hunched over the ground, is ready to keel over but hangs on,dancing with the wind. The little one, leans on the pillar that…
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