About the text¹: This is part two of the first Birdy text. Click here to read it, for context, although I suppose it’s not fully needed. Also, I don’t know if I should signal it, but I try to use a bit more broken-english here. I hope you get used to it. Cover art is from Leah Gardner, go check her out!

“Solto a voz nas estradas
Já não quero parar
Meu caminho é de pedra
Como posso sonhar?

Sonho feito de brisa
Vento, vem terminar
Vou fechar o meu pranto
Vou querer me matar”

Milton Nascimento in “Travessia”

With the north star behind an infinite number of clouds in a dark green night sky, I shook my own soul with the vilest sensations, and before any action I stood there cleanly, with the voice of an eldest man. To any that could hear me I spoke, and barely a soul listened to the growls, the lion never past a cub. But before a lion, many others. A rabbit in the nights, a penguin in the shadows. Never kind, like the beasts. Only disquietude and solitude, like the sea without the gentle movements of the moon’s tongue. Their language. Their touch. “I am restless even in wind, Lord”, I spoke to the walls, “Carry me a fire from a heart not owned, I am not to buy gold or time with letters and their nothing-spaces.” But nobody could hear me, once again, and before any tears could be shed, I wished to see the sky before the rain that would come that afternoon.

As I went to my terrace, I looked up. Birdy was there, above a wall and below the ceiling.

Ever since I last spoke about Birdy, she has come and went. She goes to her nest, stays stationary there for many days, and the next thing you know you can usually see two little heads come from under her. When the babies grow up a bit more, she leaves the nest with them and doesn’t return for a few days. When she does return, she’s carrying in herself two lives, ready to consume the world around them, bathing in windiest heat.

But this time was different. We could only see one little head by her side at the nest. My grandmother found the remains of an eggshell that fell from the nest, but there were no signs of an accident or a dead bird — just the shell. And what was different this time, also, was that Birdy came back before having new babies, carrying her one offspring by her side.

They would stay on another side of the terrace, but near the nest. A big Birdy and a small Birdy. They would sit side by side and stare at nothing for a while. I suppose the presence of themselves was water to the other, as they would gently house their hearts together in endless patience; they were showing their wings and flying without leaving the ground, as love to me was apparent and deafening. They needed time, and time appeared to them, crossing carefully the rivers of their affection, blindly choosing nature as if saying the egg should receive warmth even after being hatched.

But I haven’t spoken with Birdy since last time. I thought she would know she could talk to me. In a way, she was guarding me in her heart, but I wanted to see her eyes watching me and not only feel them. Besides, I did not know why she chose to stay by the side of this child of hers after disposing of many before her. What was special about this connection?

She saw me, almost crying.

“You are shattered, many pieces lay”, Birdy talked to me, as if for the first time.

The terrace was dark. Things were rearranged for a party a few days prior. Apparently, it was supposed to be a new year now, although light only seemed to come from the paths behind me.

“Every New Year’s Eve…”, I talked to the Birdy, “…I would be inside rituals of myself and hopeful memories, a child last like the year passing. If I brushed my teeth, I would gladly do so, thinking ‘this is the last time I’m brushing my teeth this year’. If I took a shower, I’d be happily reminding myself ‘this is this year’s last shower’. As if the end was the happiest thing, I felt silly and small, which you should always feel when happy. I was a child. I don’t remember the last time I chose to remember my last times; I don’t remember if I had last times at all. The years, after a while, stretched so thin to still grab my hand, they feel like they never ended. The child is gone, Birdy. There is sand by the wind of change, and it gets in my eyes, and I cry.”

“You are glass of nothing to you, child. Big glass of nothing”, she said. “What was the help last sent you?”

“There are times difficult to be asleep in, Birdy. And there are times difficult to be awake. Some days, it seems, are harder than others.”

I looked at her, a bit clearer under the moonlight. Her baby was by her side.

“What is with the small one?” I asked.

“It is dear to me. It can be dear to you.”

“I suppose you think I wish to be helped. You’re planning on twisting my tongue?” I asked, a bit impatiently.

“What was the wailing last breathed by you?”

“What is with the wailing? I suppose I love wailing, there’s not a time better to be in”, I said, crossing my arms. “You have them wings, if it ends up flood for the ears you can stop reading my lips. Fly gone.”

“You are dear to me. I can be dear to you”, said Birdy.

I was weak, and it was the first time someone spoke to me in a long time. Someone wishing to listen through my boring nothing-spaces. I sat down.

“Are you jealous of the Bird?”, said Birdy. The name of Birdy’s son was Bird, apparently. Don’t ask me why, she must not be very creative.

“I know you are a spirit of Mother or something,” I thought out loud. I must be honest, I don’t remember the last Birdy text a lot, help me out here. “I don’t think we need an extra pair of anything…”

“You seem rock of deepest ocean. You surely need an extra pair of balls!” Bird said to me, right before bursting into laughter by his mother’s side, the stationary serious her.

“He is too young, but he is special. Don’t mind him.” She said, after looking at my angry face. “He is a few days old; he is not a tree such as yourself.”

“He is not a tree such as none!” I said, without thinking. “How would help come our way?”

Birdy looked at me, then at Bird. Bird stopped smiling and looked at its mother.

“Bird has the power to channel nature beings. He can be possessed by any soul.” Birdy looked at me, predicting my thoughts as one with me. “Any living soul. The dead have become nature a long time ago. The ones among nature can be called upon us.”

“What? This fledging? I can smell the egg he came in from down here.” I said, crossing my arms and turning around.

I heard him being upset at me. Birdy seemed to intervene.

“Is there a message to be delivered? We’ll be the pigeons. I know your heart is at many places”, Birdy said.

I thought about it for an instant. I don’t know why, but my anger with Bird was slipping through my fingers. The possibility of resolving any meets would be a dream’s chance. But I’d have to see it for myself.

“Can I?”, I asked.

“Of course,” Bird told me, in a strangely formal tone.

“There is a lady” I said.

“It’s always a lady”, Bird said.

“Yesterday, I had some business in another part of town. I waited for an hour and a half at the same bus stop, perhaps pushing even the buses away from me. I finally got on my bus, but it was full, probably because it took so long for it to appear that it accumulated some folks. I had a… Problem with buses, a couple of years ago. I can’t stand up on them, that is, I must be seated, or I’ll lose the force on my legs. I decided on jumping off it at the next stop when this old lady, whom I’ve never met before, got up from the seat in front of me. She looked at me and smiled, as if to signal to me that I had her permission to sit where she sat. I thanked her for her kindness and spent the whole trip quietly sleeping. When I got to my destination, my sister told me that two guys in a motorcycle did a drive-by on an old man who was on the same exact bus stop as me, about half an hour after I left. He couldn’t handle life next; he died on the hospital, bleeding out.” I stared at the floor for a few seconds. “It could’ve been me. Or could I’ve been caught in the middle, no? I was there for more than an age. I don’t think I have anyone to thank for my life. But can you channel that old lady? I wanted to at least properly thank her.”

“Do you at least have her name?” Bird asked me, a bit confused.

“Well, no. She was faster than thought, or my legs simply fell too slow in the seating.”

“Then it is a bit harder. Are you sure we must, momma?” Bird turned to Birdy.

“Yes, dear. He needs it as needs be cold.”

Bird looked at me, then closed his blackling eyes. Sound roughened, his leglings became similar to roots and clawed on the wall under his feet. Veins could be seen, pulsating and shining. He was nowhere near land, but he seemed to be getting some energy from the ground and the dirt below us, as if it could think and Bird could read its mind’s lips. Suddenly, Bird’s feathers whitened. He was brown, just as Birdy was, but now he had some feathers white, as an old dog loses the paint in its fur. His eyes seemed to struggle with sight, and he seemed to tremble a bit. That small creature grew in size a bit, and now was much older than me.

“Oh, it is you!”

The voice was not Bird’s. I could not recognize it, perhaps because I never spoke to the old lady.

“Thank you for-”, I said, but got interrupted.

“We have not a lot of time. The connection is weak, love. You do not know me from a never being. Could you say I am here or have been lived, like truth is the distorted sight on the wet floor after the rain?”, the old lady said, with her voice seeming very weak.

“I just wanted to thank you. What if I left the bus and tried to get the next one, thinking it would be emptier? I could not be here now.”

“You would never do that, love”, the old lady said. “And it was not my hands on the wheel.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have seen it before. You become alive after a lot of similar moments, no? You’re almost there at nothingness, but you keep being here.”

I knew what she meant. I don’t know if I told this story before.

It was a rainy day, but it wasn’t raining anymore when we were in the car. It was 2019, we were in a place way above sea level. I had a pretty fun weekend with my brother and sister, my brother’s boyfriend on the wheels. I was thinking that the future seemed okay, after surviving through some harsh lows a month before. Suddenly, as I was talking to my brother, his boyfriend started to scream. We did not know why at the moment, but he couldn’t control the car or pull the brakes. The road was slippery, also. We started to go in circles. Everyone was sort of frozen, wishing for it to stop. Suddenly, the car crashed, but very midly at a wall by its left side, way gentler than it should’ve been. We got inside a tunnel while going in circles, apparently. No one was hurt, and we could safely leave the car and ask for help.

That incident was a miracle for many reasons. First of all, if there was no tunnel there, we’d probably just drift off of a ledge that was right after the tunnel. But also, we were going in circles for a long time, and in that moment of lostness not a single car passed by us. Just a single car in the tunnel at the same time and we would’ve crashed with it. The weird part, however, is that after we left the tunnel and called for the insurance’s help, there was not a single moment where there was not a car passing by the tunnel. Another funny thing; the insurance guy told us there was nothing wrong with the car for him to fix, so we came down and back home in the same car we almost crashed with. Nothing happened afterwards. After this, there were a few incidents where something should happen, but didn’t. And I remember I had an idea why.

“Did she call for a hand to stop everything?” I asked.

“Your guardian angel, recently dead for less than a month before. She will always ensure you can go forwards”, the old lady said.

“But what will it be when I can go forwards no longer?”

“Then she will be the one to greet you in the afterthought”, the old lady whispered. “Your mother will protect you, you feel it. You feel safe when death shows because you know she can be near, because you always felt safe in her arms. Then she shows up. And when she can’t, you won’t be quick to be angry. She will wait for your embrace when you come home.”

And the old lady vanished from Bird’s face, his roots becoming leglings again, his feathers becoming browner and browner.

I couldn’t cry, I felt happy. I got more than I wish for.

“Tell me, Birdy, was it true? Was she righteous?”

“To be quite honest, I do not know. The connection becomes fuzzy when you do not know the person personally. Who knows?” Birdy scratched her beak with her talons.

“You was impressed, wasn’t you, tall one?”, the small creature Bird felt like it was the moment to be bigger than me. “These are the songs of a Bird of nature, man-not. This is a presence in an absence, as the true grief of the earth.”

Presence in absence. Curious, I was. Many heads came to me, next. I could tire you endlessly with what each head would speak to me. But it’s been too long, already. I needed just one more person.

“Can you do it once more?” I asked, kindly, to Bird.

“Once more? Do you not know how it tires me so? Ungrateful one, this tall one, Momma one!”

“Bird… You need to help him. Do it. I feel he knows the name, now.” Birdy said, quite kindly also.

“Alright, alright, tall one. Spit it out.”

Then I spoke her name. It was quite a beautiful name, I told her once. Such a lovely face, also.

“I don’t have the right to talk to her, Bird” I loudly imposed myself. “But make her soul of nature appear to me, feather child, and I will speak my mind to her as if her presence is set in your place.”

“Well, with a name it might be done, I don’t kno-OUCH!” Bird yelled, after Birdy slapped his neck and looked sternly at her mischievous offspring. “Alright, alright. Heaven’s, another lady? You don’t even seem the type, tall one!”

We will ignore Bird just called me gay for the rest of the story; he’s like ten days old or something, he hasn’t gone to college, okay? Don’t cancel him.

Bird did the same process, but what an odd process it became at the end. His form changed completely, his size grew bigger than Birdy. His feathers were completely white, not just off-white. He was a beautiful white dove, almost shining on the spot.

“It seems a few dark days passed, not?” The dove talked to me.

“Far too many. Every day.” I immediately appeared weak in front of her. I wasn’t manipulating her, god damn it! I was truly weak, I could not be stronger. I felt all energy left me the day we last spoke. Besides, she didn’t seem to feel pity. Perhaps it would be too unkind.

“You worry about me, do not? I told you not to.”

“We’re far beyond that point, no?” I repeated an earlier conversation. “I can’t resist.”

“What is you want me to say?”, the dove leaned over.

“H-How was your day? I mean, how… How are you? I know nothing of you for so long. I trust your legs to stand, it’s just that I know the world is many crooked places. I wish I could be the reason your legs leave the bed in the morning; the reason they’re able to stand at all”, I said, not sounding like a red flag because it was romantic and who doesn’t think that can catch me outside.

“You are not the truth entirely, not? It is true, you have no news of myself. But you know I exist, still. You don’t seem to believe in the body of a god, but you pray for my safety in thought and many ways. Tell me, crooked one, it is not the thing to be asked, not?” Bird— I mean, the dove said. I’d never say anything like this to Bird, I’m not gay! I-I hope he can hear me somehow…

“It is true, that is not what I truly wanted to ask”, I agreed with the dove, even though I couldn’t be clearer in thought of the true question or even worse, the true answer.

Birdy looked at me puzzled, whilst puzzled herself. As she was next to help me, the white dove interrupted her unsaid.

“Why did you not call for me?”, the dove asked.

“Why did you not call for me?”, I asked, being petty.

“We are truly similar. And I suppose many have told you also the other was to be the caller, not?”

“They have”, I laughed. “But I didn’t listen.”

“Then you were thoughtless by your own accords?”

“I can never be thoughtless about you, Bird— I mean, love.” GODDAMN IT!!!! “It’s… Complicated.”

“I know, you told it in the song”, and the white dove hummed the melody for a song I wrote a couple of years ago.

I didn’t know doves could sing, but mostly, I did not know she knew of the melody of the song. But it was hers. It wasn’t a love song, it was a sort of cry for help; I was slowly realizing I needed to back away, and it was terrifying. I wished to communicate through it why it troubled me — perhaps, like I am doing now.

“You sing beautifully, love”, I said to the white dove.

“The song is yours”, the dove spoke.

“The song is yours.”

We stood in silence once again. I was running from the question, and she could feel it.

“Tell me, do you remember the red tree? Tell me, do you wish to be a mother?” I asked, because I couldn’t remember. Or maybe I couldn’t ask her, ever; The answer wouldn’t have me.

“What is it with this nonsense, crooked one? You disappear and talks of offspring? I am right here, silly, silly little man. Unhappy man, ask me the thing or be gone with it.”

“I don’t have a question for you, love” I yelled. “I just… I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt you any more.”

“We’re far beyond that point, not?” she yelled back.

Birdy was appalled. I did not know at the time, but it was the first time she ever saw an aggressive altercation between nature and man. Usually, even bad people appear neutered when their presence in nature is channeled. She was confused.

But she knew why. She had an idea.

She pulled one of the feets of the dove from the wall, pulling the roots from the wall under it. The presence of the dove was waning.

“What is happening to me?”, the dove asked. “I think I don’t have much time.”

“No! No, love, come back. There’s… I want to talk to you.”

“Crooked one… I…”, the dove felt weak, struggling to remain in our presence.

“You know, I always receive these reels!” I yelled. “They tell me you’ll call me five days from now. I wait so happy, even if I don’t believe them. And then on the day you do not show up. But when I check my phone, another video appears and tells me it’s going to be seven days from now. And I wait, so happy. I must say, love, I only live in those spaces in time. When I’m waiting for you, when I think you’ll come to me. It is like being a child again!” I laughed in desperation.

“She’s too weak, child!” Birdy stepped in, helping the dove to stay composed for a little longer. “You got to be truth.”

“I can’t call you, love!” I yelled.

“Not?” The dove yelled.

“Because it’s still the same. Nothing changed. I don’t want your arms, love, I don’t want your share of gold or the land you sit, I don’t want your words anymore, love. Not if I’m to sit by the riverside, not if I have to carefully drink from your cup!” I shouted.

“Not be my friend, not? Is it enough, not?” She started to kind of sound like Yoda but it was because she was very weak, and shouting was all she could do to be heard.

“I don’t want to share you, love! Come to me complete!”

“And if I am not complete?” Her weak voice shouted.

“Turn away, love! Never look back on where we layed. Never visit me. And I’ll empty your dreams the next night as you’ll empty mine!”

Come to me, come to me, come to me/Come and drink of me/Or turn away, turn away, turn away/And never more think of me.

“It’s not fair, not! You’re a child!” she cried, while losing more of her forces.

“But if you want to come to me, come to me. Come complete in one, at any time. It’s not on me, love, you see?” I cried. “I’d take you a world apart, love, I’d take your words faceless any day of the week, love! So if you want to see me, it’s the only way.”

“But what if I’m to not have those eyes for you?” She asked, almost fainting.

“Well, I’ll hope I’m the last to die, love, so to not pain you with my departure”, I put my hands around my mouth, to make my yelling be heard, “But I also hope you’re the last to go; you’re the one with the potential to make this world a brighter place.”

Who will lay down their hammer?/Who will put up their sword?/And pause to see the mystery/The mystery of the Word.

“You’re cruel, crooked!”, the white dove leaned over a bit. “It is not easy, his hands around my hands are tight.”

“Then let them be tight. Let it be easy. Do not trouble. Do not have doubts, for they are not the thorns in the rose you think. But I am doubtless, love. I’ll be waiting, love! I don’t know why! But let me wait for something or nothing at all, let me live in these spaces in time forever!”

The dove smiled (I don’t know how, don’t ask me) and fainted a last time. Bird woke up a few seconds later, shaking his head and stretching his wings up and down.

“Heaven’s!!! What is this?” Bird grumped, trying to rearrange his depleted limbs. “You broke me hard, tall one! Sorry for the youngness in my words, but the fuck did you do?”

“Language!” Birdy said. “You’re like ten days old or something. Chill.”

Birdy looked at me, laying down in the floor of the terrace. She was unable to read my face, as if nature had escaped from me. The day was dawning, light seemed to be everywhere.

“There is no language in your nature now, child. Am I right?” Birdy asked, smiling (again, don’t know how they smile. Have a bit of an imagination, okay? Help me out here!)

“My strength went to the depths below, birds. These angels of my life, how kind!” I smiled. “How could I be loved by such gentle streams, moving my hair with their language, their touch. I feel like there is not a thing to be said anymore.”

About the text²: This will probably be the last the-thief post, at least for a while. I quite literally said all I wanted to say. We will have more Nightporter posts, though, including the next one which will probably be one talking about why Travessia is the most beautiful song of all time. Hopefully, we can even have some updates on Close Up. We will still have the year-end list posts for the free subscribers, by the way. I’m trying to think if the first ones will be for everybody or not.

For the last days, my power was completely out. My phone died in the first day, and it took me a while for me to get it charged. Now the power’s back, I apologize for the disappearance. But I got the signal. I wrote this in just one night.

Birdy was one of my favorite posts to write, but I never thought I was going to return to it. Writing it felt so silly at times, so sorry if I was too jokey. It was fun, though.

“I can see that they’ve hurt you, dear
Here is some moonlight to cloak us
And I will never desert you here
Unpetalled among the crocus
Allow me, my love, to allay your fear
As I swim, in and out of focus

But if you’re gonna dine with the cannibals
Sooner or later, darling, you’re gonna get eaten
But I’m glad you’ve come around here with your animals
And your heart that is bruised but bleating
And bleeding like a lamb
Banging like a gong
And beating like a drum”

Nick Cave on “Cannibal’s Hymn”

Listen to Cannibal’s Hymn, Travessia and many other songs on Nightporter’s january playlist! I can’t know who follows them, you know, so don’t be shy!