Venetian Snares

What if, for just a day, we could be pigeons?
Sometimes one moment in time can take on such an important significance that it becomes an endless world unto itself and everything outside of that moment, past and future spots in time, become the folklore of the world
What if we could both fly over the Királyi Palota and see it just as these pigeons do?
A beautiful culture of dissimilar angels as donkey angels above this city.

But even in the world of the infinite moment, we can not choose the feather of our bird and the pigeon may long to be the goose, the donkey the pigeon and so on. Furtheremore as our world blossoms out of this single tick in time, it is for the pigeon a swirling romantic flood of euphoric possibility and fascination, for the other an inferior life of shitting on everyone from the sky, awkward and ashamed, resigning themselves to be wretched nuisance they are painted as by those they shit on.

Ultimatly, as quickly as our world blooms, our world is discordant, and our pigeons are wounded, and as our word dies, we die, and we are extinct.
If only we could kill ourselves over and over until we get it right.

(....)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNRHbUBPanc