Crow commands a deep breath as if consuming in it, the city’s pregnant history and implanted future all at once.
“This is the place for me. My kind of city, my kind of people. ‘Fuller of wonders and wickedness than all the cities of the earth!’ Dickens.”
“Ah” I say
“Of course narratively speaking the comment was for London but in his heart I think he referred to that great city of love.”
“Oh” I say
“I lived here once you know?”
“But of course. I thought you might have noticed that in my stance.” A slight pause carries undecided quiet. ” Agh! You couldn’t sense something like that. You lack a universal comprehension yet.”
“What took you to Paris” I ask trying to keep the conversation focused on his story. It is always a more genial experience for everybody that way.
“I spent some time at the Sorbonne.”
“Wow, what did you study?”
“I’m a crow, I didn’t study anything. Good grief! No no, I spent time with the faculty there. Instilling the prerequisite of excellence and scholarly perfection through image.”
“A bit like what you do for us?”
“I suppose so,” says Crow with patience.
Crow sees himself as our Ambassador. ‘The integral representative of our easy disposition and good nature as we travel from city to city.’ That’s how he puts it. He always reminds us about the weight of responsibility he carries and pleads with us not to ruin his good work with rudeness or bad manners.
“It would be nice if you acknowledged the job I do of keeping up morale also.” Says crow, looking over my shoulder as I write this. He flies out of the room leaving behind a stony silence…