At one end of the square are pigeons.
I had them when I was a child, and now twenty years have passed, I don't know if it's still the same group. But whenever you pass by here, you can always see a fluttering of white. The pigeons occasionally fly, but most of the time they walk. They search for food, peck at my hand, light and soft, but agile enough to peck away corn kernels and tiny beans.
They are not afraid of me, as long as I squat down, holding visible food in my hand, many pigeons will come running. It's like a conditioned reflex trained over the years. At four o'clock in the afternoon, when the sunlight pours down, they walk, run, and flap their wings in this golden fragment. Occasionally, they fly up, and their wings become translucent in the golden light, earning many exclamations.
It seems like our only expectation is to see them fly. But it's better not to fly too far, just circle around and return to your feet.
When I was a child, I wondered why they didn't fly away, why they made the square their home. Later, I heard that it was because a small part of their wings had been clipped, forever losing the possibility of flying away.
I can hardly imagine the expression "broken wings". Is it similar to a crisp bone fracture? Later, I learned that a more accurate expression is "loss of freedom", or even more precise, "deprivation".
Deprived of flying, deprived of the sky, deprived of the possibilities that life can see.
The one selling pigeon food is a security guard uncle, and the pigeon food costs 5 yuan for a small bag, with a small box printed with hello kitty. I bought a bag and became a secret accomplice. I squatted down and watched all the white pigeons flocking. Soft and defenseless. Like everyone else, hoping they would fly, using their wings that had been clipped.
I first met my indifference, knowing full well, pretending to be helpless and cruel.
After feeding the pigeons, we left. And the pigeons still haven't flown out of the square.
Twenty years. Maybe it's the same group, maybe it has changed many times.
Walking to the other end of the square is a nucleic acid testing site. In the shade. There is a red sign hanging, saying it's closed and no longer open. Behind it are many sheds, and you can even imagine the long queues that used to be here.
All of these have disappeared.
Just like twenty years ago, when the pigeons' wings were clipped.
Perhaps none of us have ever left the square.