wingspan

my sister and i created a small cemetery between two twin pines next to our old sandbox. if a bird hit the high windows on the house looking out over the water we would put it in one of my moms old hazelnut general foods international coffee tins, wrapped in a bed of tissue, and lay it to rest under the dirt and moss, marked with with a flat stone. marcio simnch's photos remind me of all of those birds coming back to haunt me in a beautiful blurred dream. the overexposed images make the front bars disappear and the fledglings inside free to fly away.