Life through Glass

For such tiny things, they had wills of steel. Repeatedly, they drilled into the soil, systematically covering tiny areas of ground at a time, until the little bird was finally rewarded for its efforts as he extracted a worm from the soil. Their indifference towards each other dissolved when they saw the other’s prize and they squabbled over the tasty meal. He found it fascinating what an infallible routine they had: every day, they would turn up at the same spot to dig for worms. Matt remembered reading that the birds tap on the ground to simulate rain’s patter on the soil so the worms are tempted towards the surface.

Quite clever, really, for a bird. He wondered exactly how they had discovered this method, and how they taught it to one another. In many ways, disregarding the obviously different physical attributes, they were much like humans. They had a complex hierarchy, and through watching them every day, Matt recognised that some were clearly more skilled than others. Their intricate social structures interested him as much as that of humans, because while they fought over food, they did so only to survive, and had entirely innocent souls incapable of the evil of humans. He envied them, in a way.

While chewing slowly on his breakfast, Matt watched people walking past. They had their routine too, and while some seemed to be fairly typical, businessmen and women setting off to work at 7am, there were a few that fascinated him. For example, where did that little old lady so desperately need to be at 6:30 every morning, and why did the ominous-looking man in the suit feel the necessity to walk to the end of the road before crossing the street to get to the bus stop? These little quirks interested him, and he spent longer than was healthy pondering over the various possibilities.

Everyone had their own habits, their daily routine and occasional breaks to the monotony. They all walked at different paces, some held their chin high, and some dragged their feet, eyes cast towards the ground. Some dressed impeccably, in pressed suits and polished shoes, and some past Matt’s window every day wearing the same old duffle coat. The difference in class, wealth and emotional state was clear to see, but they all had one thing in common. They all had their freedom.

They all had somewhere to be, and somewhere to come home to. Regardless of their situation, they all had a reason to get up in the morning, and probably all had someone who loved them. They, unlike the birds, had the advantage of the ability to love, to feel jealousy, sympathy, joy. While their jobs may hold them to a contractual agreement to turn up at 8am, they did have the choice not to. And as Matt walked the length of his prison cell, he envied them.