Insomnia or Pigeon-Terror

This pigeon knows what it's doing and nothing conveys the silence of its mechanical and poorly imitated walk. At first it had every appearance of an inoffensive toy, a rubber pigeon. Later one remarked its heaviness of an idle hand, its slowness of a thief's hand. It thought itself invisible, but its eyes, its white neck showed up on the slate of dreams, and its beak, its black feet on the linen of insomnia. Without warning (and one's heart stopped beating) it passed to the end of a corridor, it crossed a laundry, it pushed open the door of a prep room, it vanished at the turning of a dark staircase.

Other sign, that con: lift and lift.

"Pigeon lifts!" it's charming. Less charming when pigeon lifts letters, dates, objects.

But what to do? The slightest out of place gesture risks warning the pigeon-terror.

Jean Cocteau