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Pigeons: A Short Story

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A vast city sits lonely at night, where all the building’s hollow lights are turned off, except for one. Tops of buildings darken and the volume of the streets all the way below cannot be heard. A light which pierces through this darkness of landscape is shining from the 101th floor; it’s all the way up there. The building’s window seems so far away from the street that it almost belongs more to the sky than anything else. With binocular like vision, our eyes move closer. A window of an oval-like shape appears and the light shining through it is rudely obscured with fog unseen from the pedestrian’s eye. After a few seconds my eyes uncover a pigeon’s nest resting on the parapet; it’s got three eggs and no mother to warm them. Each stick of the

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