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swarming flies around .. something

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

There had been no progress in the condition of the squirrel for a few days. Somehow, though, I knew that today was the day. And sure enough, when I passed it by, someone - or something, I suppose - had flipped it open, revealing a cleaned-out husk and dry bones and only a minimum of flies. And that same agent - or perhaps a different one - had taken the thing's head, causing (much to my surprise) a substantial scattering of blood.

Speaking of flies... I was in a park down on King St. today, reading in the sun. There was a homeless, babbling wreck of a man in the park, too, lying in a sleeping bag. He was no more than 20cm from a stained, ruined patch of grass that swarming with flies. Swwaaarming. It was terrible to see such human misery in the city.

I left and walked into someone's wedding in a church and took a couple of snaps. Oh yes, I was carrying a disposable camera. And yes, there will be a photo of the squirrel.