Over twelve months, there will be twelve single birds. only twelve. 'Were Georges' is the fifth bird in this collection.

In a window for a while. East. A mild day for being in our hues and wondering if we will remember. There they go past. No matter. At three, the door swings fro, there, him with the paper again. Saying all that no one wants to hear. Then an hour when, an hour with the outside empty as a dream. Where we can be together and just so. One day they might call us made. "oh beautiful". I don't know how I will feel about that at all.

Let them pull and pull and then the shutter down. And we will be what we are. In our always.