the singing bird anecdote

One time my fa­ther and I were walk­ing down 47th street and we came upon an old man weep­ing in the street.

My fa­ther touched his shoul­der and asked, ‘What is your trou­ble, friend?’

The man looked down and re­spond­ed, ‘I miss my old glass­es, for with them I could watch the birds sing.’

My fa­ther reached right into his camel hair coat and from in­side the lapel pock­et pro­duced a sin­gle white dove.

With his free hand, he reached into his pants pock­ets and pulled out a roll of tape.

‘Take your rest on me, my friend,’ he said as he taped that beau­ti­ful dove to the man’s face, tire­less­ly wind­ing lengths of tape around the man’s head to se­cure the bird in place, so that the man nev­er had to live a life of re­gret ever again.

—Ivan­ka Trump, My Fa­ther, My Strug­gle
 
 

—ja­son malm­berg

Flom­mist Ja­son Malm­berg is a sim­ple man who be­lieves in brown liquor and small dogs. He also makes art some­times. Copy­right © 2016 Ja­son Malm­berg. Pic­tured: Al­fred Stieglitz, The Street … (cropped), 1900-01, source.

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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