we cannot be rid of our Shadows,
our Shadows will always lie behind us,
our pasts are Shadows we can't escape

even though the Shadows are not always in sight,
they never leave us

our Shadows, our pasts, are always a part of us,
like in this,
the Shadow of the bird's beak seems to be the beak itself

the outline around this bird resembles a pedestal, raising this dead dove above the ground

the darkness of the bird itself makes you see the Shadows as a part of it

I can hear the waves just beyond

the bird was so beautiful, and now it's dead

I wonder what it looked like flying. . .