The Mathematics of Dying — O at the Edges

The Mathematics of Dying Always the sense of negation, of winnowing those bits you once were. The male grackle struts and displays his tail feathers. Everything slanting towards null, even the treetops. The female’s smaller body lacks blue overtones. A misread signal, the unheeded warning, ignored pain. Counting beaks, adding wings, subtracting heartbeats. The image […]

via The Mathematics of Dying — O at the Edges