• The other night I found a bird in your hair, it's mottled plumage bristled against the base of your skull while you slept and I tried most gingerly to tug it out. It nestled between tufts and blinked, one, two, and I imagined that it only wanted to be a part of you. It would live there, in your hair, behind your ears, whistling secrets from its beak.

    A resourceful and precarious bird, it would find its most subtle manner of arranging twigs and feathers against your scalp.

    "What an unusual headpiece!" people would say, as you sat reading in a milder summer sun while the birds tiny chest heaved with fatigue.

    Eventually it would die or grow diseased, and we would bury it in a shoe box with tissue and fur, and even though a part of you will be missing for some time, it was worth it for all the secrets, I imagine...