I could not care less about the cosmos. As far as I am concerned, it can go to hell the very next second. I could not care less about the earth, either. It, too, can go to hell. The same goes for all the earthlings, including my humble self. But I care for a pigeon that limps haltingly on one of the busiest squares in central Zagreb. Instead of claws, which have been eaten away by some horrible disease, it has a pair of lumpy stumps. They are barely sufficient for balance, let alone for fierce competition for every morsel with other hungry pigeons. And there are many of them around. As well as sparrows galore. Watching it stumble hither and thither, forever last in the never-ending race, my heart goes to the hampered bird. As far as I am concerned, nothing but a pair of new claws for my friend would do. Indeed, I am a fucking human. An emotional cripple to boot, that is.