It’s been a while since I’ve mentioned the big, stupid ladder outside my flat. This is the big stupid ladder outside my flat:

It’s not a real ladder. It’s a sculpture of a ladder. Today, a bird tried to land on it, right at the top. Its feet skidded off and it fell down all the way, tumbling and flapping, legs in the air. I thought it would die, but it sat up instead. It sat on the tarmac in the middle of the road. At first it was quiet, then it started to squeak. Then its squeaks turned to shrieks, pure avian rage. Like, fuck this fake ladder, with its slippery rungs.

The bird shrieked a while, then it flew away. It was a small bird, maybe a starling or thrush. I think we’ve all been that bird, hurt and embarrassed and screaming in vain. Powerless, sort of thing…except, that bird fell ten storeys and flew away fine.

There wasn’t a point to this story. I just saw the bird fall, and I’m glad it survived.