The run-over and bloody corpse of a pigeon on the street. The tiny body of a blackbird in front of a shop window, with a twisted neck. A dead sparrow with broken wings. Birds seem superior, superheroes, aliens of the sky. Yet, they are brought down to earth in the most banal of ways. The dead birds we encounter everyday whisper the reality of life into our faces and hearts. Nothing is staged when we witness decay, the euphemistic lies crumble under the weight of truth. A forgotten voice rises into a clear and demanding rumble.

Deadbirds manifests those moments of reality to acknowledge those birds for what they are. The shattered world is seen in a brand new mirror. This is life, with all its dirty tricks, lost opportunities, new chances, pastel sunsets, rainy nights, last cigarettes, shots at 4 am on as Tuesday night. We have to find a way and push through. Let’s struggle, fall and get up again, without dropping the soft ice cream in our hands.