Clissold Park, London Folded in on itself, the gray heron remains to be, solely barely transferring its head to look at the water for an eel or frog
Outdated Spear-Face crouches within the rushes. The good gray heron has folded itself, all beak and eye, wing and leg, invisibly for such a big fowl, into the watery fringe of bulrushes in a park busy with individuals. Maybe the individuals fake to not discover the heron so the heron believes it truly is invisible; they might steal a look at one another from completely different realities in the identical place however their gazes by no means meet.
Outdated Spear-Face remains to be, solely barely transferring its head to look at the water for an eel or frog, whereas the floor displays the best autumn afternoon, excessive clouds and rumours of change within the bushes. The fowl’s eye, with its golden ring, has a decided look, like that of self-conscious cyclists, sellers of socialist papers, marriage ceremony photographers, proprietors of meals stalls. Its wings cloak its physique in plumy tassels of gray, and the scaly stick of its one leg (or so it appears) is jammed into the mud of the New river.
Associated: The place the heron hunts