I am fascinated by birdcages and have been since I can remember. I have collected many over the years. For those who have ever noticed them here and there in my house or studio, they are always left with the door open.
To Kill A Mockingbird is a story that holds deep personal meaning to me for many reasons. The thought of killing a songbird as being a sin is akin to willfully trapping another human and clipping their wings. Every time a word is spoken in anger that tells a child they are "too stupid, too dumb, too incapable..." their ability to fly becomes handicapped. What folks do not think of is how we ourselves do the very same things to ourselves as adults. We believe the naysayers, the most vocal being the peanut gallery in our own heads that conjure up "what-if's", and "can't do's" constantly. We come to a point where we trap ourselves in our own gilded cages, architect-ed from our own blueprints and fashioned by our own hands, and for good measure, the key to the front door we pounded and crafted, we force ourselves to choke on as we swallow it just to make sure we can never leave.
What does your birdhouse look like? When was the last time you escaped it's bars and truly flew?
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