duck bites

Mallard drake in winter plumageDuck bites yields 825,000 (and soon, 850,001) results in Google. Good grief!

I realised today where dreams go. I remembered something from an unknown source from years ago about duck bites. Individually, they seem innocuous. Combined they form an irresistable force. The memo at work about the correct use of the comma, while nationally literacy rates continue to worsen. The idea that’s taken hours or days or weeks to form is voiced, flutters haltingly toward the light of day before being crushed by the sneer of fear. As Sophie Tunnell said: ‘Fear is a slinking cat I find beneath the lilacs of my mind.’

Between a nibble here and nibble there our dreams become diminished and eventually are gone. It might be better that way – when dreams are gone. I think that’s what the ‘Nothing’ was in Michael Ende’s ‘Neverending Story’. As an aside, I once ate duck tongues at a Karaoke Bar in Hong Kong. Perhaps the ducks are having the last revenge. There’s no need, the tongues were revenge in themselves!

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