Across the road, in a backyard aviary that sits trackside, a suddenly single finch mourns its love lost. Pair bonding they call it. And as I look around the train I am struck by the pair bonding of several commuters. The side-by-side, thigh-to-thigh, interlaced-fingers type. The tangled-leg type of the couple opposite each other. The stooping-to-hear parent to child type. And I’m reminded of my old housemates. On snowy days their no-space-between-them footprints trailed their love through the park.
Stardust Becoming 