Such Crooked Wood

Maybe it was the gloom up here on the balcony that made my sketch of a cormorant look more like a skeletal baby with a beak. I knew from experience that people were funny with birds, whether it was through preference or superstition. There was as much chance of me shifting a cabinet with this withered creature on it as there was of me getting rid of the dresser I’d painted with partridges that was gathering dust in the crypt at home. Unless it was flamingos, no one seemed bothered about birds at the minute.