The snow fell around them, just enough to dampen the hair of one of them who forgot his hood. The other, shifting the cold from their nose readied their finger upon the button. This would be their shot.
As the finger clenched down and the shutter clicked, the bird flew away, deep within the streets that it certainly no longer belonged to.
A deep smog of industry had culled the forests, leaving a haven for man and his new world. Confused as to where it left the babies, the bird sat again upon a pole high above where its ancestors would have once stopped for a drink or something to eat.
Complaining, the pair tried to find a new subject to take photos of. Their love for nature was greater than their love of the grim walls and dismantled brutalism. “Maybe I need a new camera?”
Next time, they’d have a faster camera to capture such a man-made insignificance. Next time, they’d buy Fujifilm.
