What, my dear avian friend, has compelled you to fly so far inland? To a parkinglot of a Walmart none the less, is it...prehaps the Others? Banishing you to a lonely existance with their probing, insesent squacks. Are you a modern Ulysses? cast far inland By the forces that be? Refugee-explorer,how can I in all goodness could one refuse you Aid? My prayers go with you, in your wayward flight. May the winds of fortune blow many a breadcrumb your way.
Dear Seagull in the parking lot:
July 2, 2010