The way it feels, sitting in the library courtyard, and seeing a baby sparrow at your feet, scavenging the crumbs from your crusty roll. The way it feels when a cat, perched on a fence on your way to work, doesn’t flee but instead rubs its head against your hand. When a water dragon tries to steal your lamington outside the Gallery of Modern Art. When a tiny silver-eye crashes into your lounge-room window, breaking its neck, and you cradle its still-warm body, bones full of air. When a hundred seagulls glide high over your house at sunset. When you stand a little too long, looking at the bones and intestines of a dead rat on the railway station platform. When a ring tail possum totters along a power line above your head as you walk moonlit home from the pub. When a praying mantis looms from a fresh-picked, vase-stuffed bouquet.
The unwild world
