Waking up to Garbage: December 27

December 27, 2001 — 7:25am

Another rosy-fingered dawn. As I watch, a gull is drowning in an oily puddle below the embankment, too weak to keep its head above water for any length of time. I don't see a way to pull it out of the water, and I remind myself that it might not be any better off dying a slower death on dry land, but I can't shake a feeling of having failed a moral test.

Should I have climbed over the railing and fished him out of the muck? Or should I have pushed him under instead? Not knowing how to mitigate suffering doesn't relieve you of the duty to do so.

.                     

Photos Marijke Rijsberman, 2001

Back to Waking Up to Garbage