The sun was behind the treeline and the sky was that yellowy-blue colour with a little tinge of green. Specks drifted in the distance, gradually floating nearer. It was birds. Flocks and flocks of them, flying in a phalanx, high above the weather. I grabbed the binoculars and watched them scud across the lens, frantically twisting the focus yet all I could see were silhouettes, black against a luminous sky. They looked like gulls, some sort of maritime bird at least, traveling on to wherever they spend their winter. To the naked eye the vees looked like one animal, everything in perfect sync. No individualism.
I start singing 'Boys and Girls' by Blur. "Following the herds". I know I'll go out to the pub tonight and see more flocks, no individuals. The Girls or The Lads or, for those of you who Bebo, Ma Gurleez and Da Boiz. At least birds have magnetism and instinct as an excuse. A lack of creativity distresses me. I'll get over it. I always do.
More tomorrow...
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