Many years before I had become as they are I used to go to the park and
sit with our feral freinds. I did not feed them, nor chase them, I would
simply sit amongst them, how and when it started I could not tell. All I
know is that I was drawn to them; drawn to their peaceful flutterings.
Once I sat squat on a wall next to a pond watching one peck at the floor,
below a tree that housed their flock. One by one the rest of the flock
joined us. One pigeon was perched close to me on the wall, staring almost
longingly at me. I had nothing material they could want, only the  clothes
on my back. They started coming closer to me, slowly, until they gently
hopped onto my forearm, which was rested on my knee.

In the miliseconds before my reflexes overwhelmed me, forcing my arm to
move and causing them, and the their flock to fly back home, I  felt a joy
deeper than I had felt in a lifetime. It was like this pigeon saw in me
something which even I couldn't, I fell in love with this pigeon, in love
with this fleeting moment spent with it, and I finally felt free.