The End of a Bird

A dead crow, found in the wrong place. A coincidence that never was one at all. A place in the snow where two lines meet: the end of a bird and my own longing to die.The portrait of a landscape where a suicide fantasy and the long passed funeral of a crow intersect. Even though the bird itself has long since disappeared, the color of its feathers, the flapping of its wings and the rough croak are present, raising questions in the undergrowth. A poetic essay about mental illness and a kaleidoskopic homage to a bird that does not point to death, but beyond.