Nobody bothers me. I watch Birdy. He doesn’t do much except take a crap or pee once in a while. He does this by squatting over the toilet with his feet on the toilet seat. A bird doesn’t even know when it craps, so Birdy isn’t a real bird. A few times he turns toward me and watches. He turns his head back and forth, shifting his whole body each time. There’s a sink in the corner filled with water and once he goes over and drinks like a bird, lifting his head to let the water run down his throat. What the hell’s he trying to prove? When he moves anywhere, he hops. He lifts himself from the squatting position with each hop and then squats again; hopping, squatting, flipping his bent arms as wings, exactly like some awkward giant bird; like a hawk or an eagle, hopping on the ground, slow hops. It’s getting so it doesn’t bother me as much. When he looks at me, I try smiling but he doesn’t notice. He’s curious but there’s no kind of recognition. I can’t help wondering what in hell could’ve happened to him.
