There is a seagull trapped in the courtyard outside my office window. He can’t seem to find his way out over the 4 metre high walls. The poor bugger keeps flying into the windows. He doesn’t appear to be injured, he just can’t get enough lift when flapping his wings.
I sometimes think it would be fun to be a bird, because flying would be cool. Now I wonder what’s the point of being able to fly if you can get stuck somewhere so easily.
Can you tell I don’t have a lot of work to do?
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