“In other versions I am a doctor or a ghost. Perfect devices: doctors, ghosts, and crows. We can do things other characters can’t, like eat sorrow, un-birth secrets and have theatrical battles with language and god. I was friend, excuse, deus ex machina, joke, symptom, figment, spectre, crutch, toy, phantom, gag, analyst, and babysitter. I was after all ‘the central bird… at every extreme’. I’m a template. I know that, he knows that. A myth to be slipped in. Slip up into…

(I do this, perform some unbound crow stuff, for him. I think he thinks he’s a little bit Stonehenge shamanic, hearing the bird spirit. Fine by me, whatever gets him through.)


Grief is a Thing With Feathers
by Max Porter

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gifts. it’s time for gifts.
and the meaning,
it comes in waves.