Immigrants Outside the windows of our London flat the city's waking to the cry of gulls, escapees from the terrors of the sea, converts to the urban thermals found arising from the concrete and the glass. They've made their way inland by using maps etched on the liquid compasses embedded in the secret places of their brains. The river Thames acts as their certain road from sea to city, as these migrants flock to soar above the streets in crying crowds mirroring the screeching crowds below. Despite the curving beauty of their wings as they hang in London's fetid air, we want to persecute, to send them back to dangerous seas they will encounter there.
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