“You’d better wash your hands now,” Kelli shouted across Piazza San Marco. “They’re covered in bird germs.”
But we had no bathroom, no quiet tiled corner in which to rinse off our palms. Like the pigeons, we looked – we were – homeless. Ever on the move, wherever a whim might take us. Sometimes we circled back upon ourselves, other times we chased down sudden directions.
Today we were leaving Venice. Maybe we’d catch a train through Innsbruck, Austria – or detour west to Spain?
Like the pigeons, we, too, collected dirt and food scraps and spare hours as we roamed. I wondered if people rushed to a soapy sink after meeting us?
But no matter. At least, for short distances, we could all fly away.
(Brought to you by Weekly Photo Challenge).