Most days, while drinking my tea on the balcony, I watch the pigeons on the roof of the warehouse next door. Usually it’s a little pigeon following a big pigeon – up and down. There’ll be a little bit of a kerfuffle – some feathers ruffled – and then it’s back to up and down. I wonder whether they do mate for life – and what kind of life is it? Breed. Up and down. Kerfuffle. Up and down. Peck. Breed. And then I see them nestled into one another, gazing out at their urban domain, and I think, “It’d be ok”.
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