Maybe it’s just because I’m pulling my head out of the book for the first time in a month, but it feels like everything around me is conspiring to be ridiculously cinematic. Walking to work yesterday I saw dozens of crows roiling around the electric bus cables over the street. They were cawing almost painfully loudly, doing their damnedest to break up the drab, pointless morning. And when I got closer I saw one of them on its back in the middle of the intersection, feet pedaling spasmodically in this completely creepy way. It looked like it was missing a head. After I crossed the street I turned to look again, and saw that it had hopped back up on its spindly little crow’s feet, head intact.

Then on the next block there was a rolling lump of small children in brightly colored clothes, thick jackets and little caps, the antithesis of the dark, scrawny crows in almost every way - the children were so far ahead that they seemed (certainly falsely) to be silent, their movements slow and trundling instead of sharp and agitated. The only thing they had in common, the children and the crows, was the way they stood out against the gray sky, the gray sidewalk, the gray buildings.

I am one endless fucking POV shot.