A Portrait, Somewhat Too Near

I thought it high time a proper likeness of me existed, for the record, so I propped myself against the railing and held the contraption up close, as one does.

I had not accounted for the wind. It came in off the water with no manners whatsoever and rearranged my whole front before I could so much as square my cap. The result, when I inspected it, showed mostly beak, one outraged eye, and a great quantity of feather going in directions feathers were never intended to go.

I tried again, holding it further off, which only meant the wind had more of me to work with. Three attempts in, my satchel strap had migrated to somewhere near my ear and my dignity had gone the way of most things on that pier, which is to say straight out to sea.

A passing tern found the whole business hilarious. I did not dignify that with a response.

In the end I kept the second one. It is not flattering, but it is honest, and there is something to be said for a portrait that tells the truth about a working morning. I shall call it a study in conditions rather than a failure of composition.

The round still had to be walked afterwards, feathers or no feathers. It generally does.