Читать книгу Particulate Matter - Felicia Luna Lemus - Страница 9

Hummingbird nest at our front gate. Hair of the dog. A few of mine, too: silver. Delicate twigs, tiny crawling rose leaves, and a bit of white thread. Tangled into the most beautiful little nest.

I put the nest in a ziplock, to freeze it (to sterilize it; quoth my mother, “All things die in the freezer,” her collection of exquisite oddities stored beside ice cube trays), to keep it on my desk. Then the whole thing makes me sad, that empty fallen nest. I should put it back where I found it. But it’s mine now.