Somewhere in a run-down neighborhood in the midst of Brooklyn, among huddled masses of shiftless, scrambling college grads there lives a creature whose sole existence is both a miracle and a curse. Wedged in an alley between two buildings, too fat and sickly to fly away, a pigeon wheezes, feeding cheerfully on the very trash it sleeps in. It never leaves the alley. It can’t. No one is sure when Wheezy last glimpsed real sunlight, or touched a green leaf or blade of grass. And yet he wheezes on, through each labored breath, fighting to see tomorrow.
Hearing Wheezy outside of Quinn’s window every day served as a reminder that we’re only here to do one thing – keep on keepin’ on. Sometimes it’s cold. Sometimes it rains in the alley. Sometimes you graduate moments before an entire economy collapses in on itself. Sometimes your one passion in life is the very same thing that is first to suffer under budget cuts. Sometimes you eat spoiled fried chicken bones that an old Spanish lady threw down into your alley hole even when you’re a bird yourself, and that’s cannibalism. But we wheeze on, in spite of it all, because we’re hooman beans, and that’s what we do.
The Pidge is intended to serve as a space to share our work – art projects, writing, photography – and anything fun, interesting, or weird that we happen to encounter. The goal is to keep our genius creative juices pumping by staying connected and motivating each other. Because it’s a sick, sad world out there, and only dead fish go with the flow.