Blue Bird

A dog with its tongue hanging out from the heat walks across the square with shaky, heavy and weary steps and stops in front of the butcher on the corner.

The senior street cats standing there do not care about this old dog that resembles them.

A fly screen made of nylon strips and colorful beads hangs on the shadowy door of the butcher shop.

The fly screen does not move
. There is not the slightest breeze in the air.

The midday heat has pressed down on the butcher shop.
So much so that you would think sparks were raining down from the sky.
Buildings, trees, people and all the objects in the open are exhausted from being bathed in a flood of light and are lying on the ground.

The old dog, whose ribs are knitted together from hunger, glances sleepily at the butcher's door and then, just as he staggers around the corner, lies down in the shade of the big acacia tree.