I apologize to dead things. This occured to me today as I was walking across the parking lot to school and found a dead baby bird lying on the concrete. It was pale and almost completely featherless, just a tiny gray tuft of down on its back. I have no idea where it came from, it was lying in the middle of the parking lot, there wasn't anywhere nearby where it could have fallen from and it certainly hadn't been old enough to move itself. I crouched there for a minute studying it's tiny little body, then I got a stick and moved it the grass on the edge of the lot. And I apologized. I don't know why I apologize to dead things. I'm not particularly convinced of any sort of afterlife or the persistence of conciousness after death, though I'd like to. I guess it's my way of acknowledging the life it didn't get to lead.
Also, I hug books. Only good books mind you. When I finish a book I enjoyed I hug the book before I put it away. I'ts my closure, because I'm bad at ending things.
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