The birds fly in, the birds fly out
In the spirit of the original Moulin Rouge, we present a tiny version for tiny birds. There’s almost certainly a tiny opium den in the cranium of this thing, where wrens can go get, like, higher than an eagle or whatever it is that wrens do. Finches do not solicit the tiny elephant opium den, […]
Can’t sleep, birdhouse will eat me
It might be folk art. If folk art had a huge white ball of goo dangling from its muzzle like some sort of horrible fruit. It might, I’m not judging. Maybe I should. So I’m in a weird headspace right now. I spent a good chunk of the morning working on another blog entirely, writing […]