Summer has ended, at least on the calendar. The fall is here and, like a vulture, is trying to feed its sickly body with the flesh a still moving summer, celebrating its temporary victory. Well, fuck fall, fuck winter. They'll come and they go again. Like always. But, seriously, fuck them.
Vultures today, my friends. These majestic creatures that symbolize death in a way. The beauty of those magnificent birds against the ugliness of autumn and winter. Once again, fuck autumn and fuck winter. Off we go with the photos.
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| They get well fed every day. And they share their lunch with swallows mostly, that can enter the cages. The pigeons are a bit too big to pass through. |
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| Check this face better. Under this strange orange thing that looks like a leather towel, you can hear it whispering "death..." Come on closer. Don't be afraid. It won't bite... |
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| A white one. Doesn't look like a vulture in the way we are used to, but believe me, it is. |
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| See it better and edited. You find his haircut funny? I hope that you'll be laughing when its beak is searching through your warm flesh for edible pieces. |
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| Look at those black eyes. This stare. This one will suck out your soul as a first plate before showing you the hard way that, no matter who or what you are, you can still become a delicious vulture meal. |
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| And it won't wait for you to die before starting, no. Vultures don't like to eat alone. |
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