Saturday, February 09, 2008

There are guitguits, pronoucned "gwitgwits," hanging out toward the warm middle of the Americas, flying, sitting, saying "gwit, gwit" when it's time to, being brightly colored, doing their job, so it would be better if we didn't kill everything. The idea is that if I make peace with my bright colors and know what my cry is I'll feel less need to be part of a rampage that knocks down places where other beings live. I love you, world. Gwit, gwit.