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ravens

here it is, the beginning of the Conspiracy. on the way home from work i found a perfect branch for them to nest in. just when i needed it. or, just when i was looking for it? it was right next to the path, sticking out of the snow, waiting.

a conspiracy of ravens. a murder of crows. a pride of lions. a shrewdness of apes. an exaltation of larks. so. what are humans, then?

my conspiracy is tiny. they all fit in the palm of my hand, and if you should happen to sigh heavily they might blow away. there’s edgar with the hat and the monocle, and emily with her taste for all things shiny. and sergei and vania and sasha. don’t worry, nobody else knows who’s who either. they like it that way.

(they’re probably not even real russians.)

i read somewhere that dogs have differently accented barks depending on which country they live in. it makes sense, doesn’t it? but does it mean that if a french dog and a russian dog and an american dog were to meet, they don’t understand what the others are saying at all, or is it like the best kind of cliché action movie, where they all speak english except ze frenchperson zounds like zis, and the russian glowers a lot, and if there’s a german there’s a good chance his name is klaus, and then something explodes?

i am very fond of accents. (this is a nice way of saying i have an accent fetish). drawly ones, and lilting ones and crisp ones. i tend to subconsciously start imitating when i am around one i like. this is sometimes quite embarrassing, but mostly fun.

the strange thing, though, is that the only accent i can’t slide into is the one i’m supposed to have.

 

my Conspiracy needs more members. i’ll get on that tomorrow.

 

 

 

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