The Sparrow hit, well my undercarage

I hate to be paranoid or just plain childish but killing a sparrow today really bothered me.

And so I did what every person trying to deal with a horrific event does; I Googled it.

I found this story about an exhibit at the Tate Modern, one of my old stomping grounds. It did not help my situation in the least bit.

So I was thinking that killing a sparrow might seem insignificant, or maybe it isn't. And it was like anything that happens before you have time to react and when you get that initial second where you do react it is not ever what you are expecting, if you can expect anything.

I killed something today. Shouldn't that be something to feel bad about?

I guess what this really is telling of, is the fact that I could not go hunting.

I'm starting to think that if a family of sparrows finds out from the chipped paint or directory or tire marks; they might come after me.


And while we are talking about dead birds, check out this site where you can order a "That One" t-shirt.


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