I saw what may be the ugliest bird ever today. He was a brown and white skinny pigeon (by University standards where gluttony runs rampant - even amongst pigeons) who appeared to have all of the feathers plucked from his head. He stood on the curb looking out onto Guadalupe, and it appeared as if he were considering flinging himself into traffic. Out of pity for what his life as foul must be like (he must have known the meaning of the word and felt it deep in his hollow little bones) I half hoped that he would go through with it, but he had a sudden change of heart and flapped his wings as he jumped back towards the side walk.

 Later in the afternoon I had a dream about the swans we have at work. We used to have two, but one of them died. I dreamt that the healthy one was plucking all of the feathers from the head of the one who is now dead (at this point he is alive in the dream). The sick one was fighting back but there was basically no point and there was blood everywhere.

 It's funny because the to swans were brothers, and once the one got sick all the other did was pick on it. Up until the night the sick one died the healthy swan would pick at him, chase him, even hold his head under water. I almost think the swan knew that he was killing his brother. I get mad at him when he calls out at night like he's lonely, after all, it's his fault his brother is dead.