I wish she'd stop. They're everywhere, these damn birds. There're about 50 pigeons surrounding her—a few climbing on her even—which she's feeding. And there are about 10 seagulls now too.
The seagulls came one by one. Like bullies they are, or robbers, much larger in size. They scare-off the pigeons if they can, and they steal the bread. And then they run-off, to wait again behind the gang of pigeons for another opportunity.
You attract what you're like afterall, the good and the bad. The pigeons being fed attracted more pigeons. And then the seagulls came too—birds, but different birds.
You can also see the power of the mob. Though the seagulls are much larger, they're much fewer. And the mob of pigeons keeps them at bay, for the most part.
So, the seagulls are larger than the pigeons, as I've said. And they use their size to frighten, to get the bread, as I've said. But the lady is the largest of them all.
She favors the pigeons clearly, throwing the bread close to the clusters of them, away from the seagulls. And then she leaves a little bread in her hand and calls to a few of the pigeons to take. And they do. And the seagulls don't dare.
The seagulls manage to steal some pieces of bread here and there, however, of course, but only here and there. The lady never scares them away for it, the seagulls, only continues further to ignore them. And the pigeons eat well.
But the lady does have mercy. For the first time, she looks in the direction of a seagull. And she throws it some bread. And then she continues to feed the pigeons.
And as I'm sitting here writing, I'm eating my cornbread—a minha broa de milho, to be true, bread of the gods. And I'm contemplating a bit evily should I begin feeding the poor seagulls. I like seagulls afterall,—the only birds that I do like—the beach bum I've become. They've never much bothered me, which is to say, that they've never shit on me—and I've seen them shit on about everything else—and I appreciate that.
And just as I'm thinking of this, a man walks-up and begins to do just that, to throw huge chunks of bread to the outer circle of seagulls. And almost each seagull gets a piece to itself before the pigeons even notice. But they do notice eventually, the pigeons. And despite the lady still throwing-out her pieces of bread, they flock towards the seagulls, and the man throwing much larger pieces of bread.
The man continues throwing bread. But he doesn't discriminate like the lady. He throws huge chunks to all equally.
But not too much after he begins, the man, he's out of bread. He walks-away ashamed it almost looked. And the flock of birds look at him confused, it seems.
But the lady is still there, throwing-out her pieces of bread. She never stops. But I wish she would. All these damn birds are everywhere.