Bird town


I want to tell you a story

The story of a place that is not of this world

The story of an ever moving town


This town sprouted within the rocky underground of an island

And for a long time its inhabitants grew trees and vines

To complement their dark and musty vaults

With luminous and airy cathedrals


Once the town had grown up and started shining in its full splendor

Its inhabitants discovered that by singing together in their tree cathedral they could move the island

It could travel as a boat over the ocean

And instead of remaining stuck in loneliness in the middle of the seas

They started to travel their ship island from country to country, from port to port

Becoming real Bedouins of the ocean


Their island provided them with all they needed to daily survive

Fruits, fresh water, fishes and mollusks

And what they lacked they traded in port towns

Offering in exchange beautiful treasures of nacre and coral

They had patiently carved with their knowing hands


One day as they were singing and journeying over the waves

The horizon disappeared from their view and the sky darkened

And soon the ocean started hitting their island with an unusual force

And the raging waves filled the little craters in the middle

Threatening to ruin all the crops that grew there

To burn the trees and the vines that had patiently became the walls and the roofs of cathedrals, the loudspeakers of their voices

In desperation, the inhabitants of the town started chanting an air they had never sung to call off that fate

It spoke of their fear at the violence and the unfairness of this storm

But as the hymn unraveled, it told the story of townsmen’s strength and determination to resist

Slowly, slowly



Faster, stronger

And their words grew and grew until their song became a shout, the shout of a howling beast

Their voices resonated as though they made one, and distinct words were no longer audible, and the vaults sheltering them started trembling

The inner storm had grown stronger than the outer storm

And suddenly very old memories reawakened in the depth of the island

Times when it wasn’t bound to the ocean but could freely float through space

And it flapped its wings, these forgotten wings and started flying

Carried by the chant of its townsmen

Elevating above the sea, soon reaching plains, crossing mountains

And from that day, the ever moving town journeys from continent to continent

It sometimes lands somewhere for a few days, a few weeks

And townsmen harvest all the resources they need from that place

And they share the wisdom of the sea and that of the sky with earthlings, these people who have always had hard soil under their feet

Before setting off again to other worlds to explore, to touch with their flying grace