In the still of early morning, I caught a glimpse of one pigeon making its nest on an electric wire. When contrasted against this solitary silhouette with dawn sky as backdrop, it looked like another lonely scene for lending eyes to see. Every twig woven into the nest appeared to hold mute histories. The usual sounds of chirps, brotherly bonds were replaced with a haunting silence. The soft coos of the pigeon, not only music but also perhaps a little lost melody for that partner which it misses and longs to meet. The bird's silent struggle was unfamiliar to the oblivious urban landscape below. The nest gradually came together. I felt a vague melancholy permeating the scene, as if even birds experience moments of painful solitude amid their simple lives.
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