[...] I was even more surprised when this presumed male pigeon suddenly broke out into a frenzied courtship dance around the corpse. I’d just got dressed and hadn’t had any breakfast; I was keen to have some and get on with my day, since my monumental all-nighter meant I’d woken up very late and had a lot to do before it was time to turn the computer off (6.15 p.m.) and start my yoga class (7 p.m.). But I couldn’t stop watching the strange spectacle of what I believed was a male pigeon, courting what I believed was another male pigeon, who was, let’s not forget, dead and decomposing. The suitor’s little dance was brief and violent, as if prompted by uncontrollable sexual passion; but then, faced with the immobility of the object of desire, the lack of any response, he broke off abruptly and seemed plunged into a terrible confusion. An occasional light breeze fluttered a feather here and there, on the corpse and on the paving stones where a few were scattered, small and white. That movement seemed to be the main cause of the suitor’s confusion, since although it wasn’t the ideal response it was at least a sign of activity, and therefore, he must have thought, of life. And so, faced with this dilemma, all the suitor could do was walk up and down, like someone pacing nervously to and fro with his hands clasped behind his back, his mind working keenly to solve some urgent problem or reach a decision. Up and down he walked, and then suddenly he jumped onto the dead pigeon like someone climbing onto a small promontory, the better to survey the landscape. He walked around on top of the body, turning in circles, pirouetting, stamping his feet. Then he hopped back down onto the paving stones and walked a bit more, shaking his head slightly the whole time as if to express serious doubt, a total inability to believe what was happening. A gust of wind, a slight ripple of feathers and the suitor was up once again, stamping his feet, turning in circles, until suddenly, with his back to me, still on top of the corpse, he made a few frantic movements of copulation. He must have reached orgasm almost immediately, because he quickly detached himself from what had once been the object of his desire and flew away. I thought: ‘Now this poor dead pigeon has seen it all.’ I also thought: ‘Please don’t let that happen to me when I die.’