Of course, I'm thinking, crap, she's fallen, needs stitches. I turn quickly and see her pointing down at the rock. Then, the urban dweller kicks in. I'm thinking, crap, she's found drug paraphernalia or worse. But I walk over and see this. A nest, a duck's nest, filled with eggs. A duck that depends on the dirty nasty River des Peres. And on the goodwill of passersby and fast cars on the boulevard. They're eggs, so of course they're fragile. But doubly so, in my mind.


1 comment:
That is bad.
I played too.
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