The Rock Bird and Strange Creatures

Meters above a busy bus stop on a rock wall Anstigon, a rock bird, watches the herds of commuters.
Many of them have speakers stuffed into their ears. Some are speaking into a mobile phone or dancing their fingers over its glass surface. They all carrying something, a bag or a backpack. Some are reading a free ad-heavy newspaper. Except for an odd couple no one smiles or speaks.

Bus after bus stops. People get off and people get on.

”What strange creatures”, thinks Anstigon. ”Many of the people who get on in the morning get off across the street in the evening. Back and forth to the same place. They could just as well have stayed here and talked with me. But they don’t see me. From what I can gather, they don’t see much else of the world either. Back and forth, back and forth. They’re usually carrying more stuff when they come back. Back and forth just to fetch stuff. What strange creatures.”

“Your gift of life was paid for with chains of blood and storms of sweat.”
Dartwill Aquila