By Zachary Parson
It was a bird with a yellow yarn string wrapped around it’s dimly lit tangerine beak,
sitting in a confined rusty cage, almost like a jail cell, or simple resting area, depending on your interpretation. The door was open, I mean wide open, the farthest open it could possibly go, so open that the door held hands with the side of the cage beside it.
Drawing by Zachary Parson