when birds sing
Monday, leaving the factory after a long day labeling bottles and packing orders, I heard a bird. It was chirping, loud and different in a way I cannot describe. I looked up and saw the bird on the rim of the roof covering the parking lot. It would not stop. Yesterday, again in the factory, labeling bottles, I watched down on the roof from the first floor of the factory building. The bird was sitting there, with food in its beak. Next to the bird waiting there with food was a dead bird.
I went up to the third floor where I store bottles and packaging material and where I paint when I find time. A whiff of sadness filled the room. It is interesting, I figured, that we can relate and understand birds. Birds are the direct descendants of dinosaurs. Us and them are very different. Still, we can connect: a privilege and a responsability. And we can abstract and look forward: plan and take decisions that catapult us out of our tracks.
The bird probably fell off the nest when it stormed the other day. The weather had changed from tropical suffocating heat to a chilly and wet sequences of depressions coming from the west. The last three mornings felt like autumn and were a solid reminder that autumn is coming. Indeed: Pitti Fragranze, the Florence perfume fair, is in about 6 weeks. It will be the starting point of the season. This, the season, the time when people buy more perfume, is the reason why I am hiding behind bottles in the factory day after day: I sold more than expected the last few months. And was paid less than expected, but that’s another story.
I am basically trying to catch up and build (some) stock now as the summer months are always a bit quiet. Yesterday, I finished labeling a thousand bottles of air du désert marocain. That’s good. Next: Packing them. These tasks are very repetitive. They are ZEN, if looked at from the right angle, and time to reflect. Theoretically, I should think about marketing texts for what’s coming next. Practically, I just think: Smell it yourself, trust your nose, and make up your own mind. Not what my Italian partner waits for but I am tempted to just leave it there.
An hour later the chirping had stopped and the bird did not show up anymore.
Photo credit: Jonas Kambli, jonaskambli.com