Jul/Aug 2002

e c l e c t i c a  
s p o t l i g h t   a u t h o r



Drew Colin McNaughton


In the car I suggested we go back, see if the bird was dead. Megan yanked the parking brake and told me to go ahead. The bird lay sprawled on the road behind the small car; some of the feathers torn off during impact floated up in the wind that was forming small tornadoes, whipping chaos through the cornrows.


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