Intersections: 021 — Blood on the Pavement

July 20th, 2025

The crows have been gathering again. The first night, a family of five. The next, more than twenty as word got out to their feathery friends. Tonight, hundreds - their black forms stream across the sky, diving in play as they follow some unmarked leader from roost to roost. We’ve lived here for four years, and they mysteriously gather like this a couple of times each year.

Just as mysteriously, the winds have tilted the weathervane a few degrees in a magical gesture that has vanished summer’s oppressive wildfire smoke for an evening.

You don’t realize how much you take for granted simple things, like fresh air, until they’re gone. But when it’s back, you embrace it for what it is.

Life spills out onto our balcony. Kids run around the concrete courtyard below - tonight, a Ukrainian refugee is learning to ride a bicycle with yips that are a mix of glee and terror. Flower petals float down from somewhere above; a splash of colour against the concrete. The wind gusts through the panopticon, and we all breathe it in deeply.

My partner and I raise a glass of whiskey to each other: slainte - a toast to health. I take a sip and gaze across the familiar horizon; life washing over me.

So. Things have been quiet on the newsletter front for these past few months. There’s a reason for that: health.

I’m not ready to talk about this elephant in the room, as I’m still trying to understand what’s going on and incanting suspicions feels dangerous. But I need to nod to it in the corner, otherwise anything else I write right now will feel like a farce.

What I will say is: just like clean air, let’s not take the health we have for granted.

The budding cyclist in the courtyard below shrieks, an excited wobble taking them into a curb and over the handlebars. Mom comes running and all the rest of us can do is hope for the best.

Thanks for reading,
David