All is full of birds

No matter when you have a look at your watch, at any clock, no matter what you might be doing at a certain point of time, there might be a bird observing you. Invisible or visible birds. Birds always seem to be observing something accurately...and when they chirp, it’s as if they were doing comments on reality and maybe conspiring. Agile creatures that, like happiness and illness and death and good news and new acquaintances and friends, come across our way, all of a sudden, on the ground, above our heads, in some balcony we decide to look at. Birds are not birds, but something else. They make me notice some other world flowing, happening alongside my steps, the path I end up following. And as I make paper birds, that other world seems to be invading the world I always thought was the world, till some moment in time, and still from time to time. Everything becomes filled with colour paper birds as everything is emptied of its sense or meaning. Maybe some other birds are meanwhile looking at Prosikito saying “vámonos de fiesta”. Reality and unreality and transreality and interpretations of the 3 dimensions.