I went to New York because a friend was working there, and I wandered around in the daytime on my own, going to lots of galleries, generally just thinking, "I love New York." And one day I was in Central Park and it was autumn, so there were lots of lovely autumnal leaves all over the floor. And I was hungry so I ordered a baguette. And I sat outside and I took a bite, and it was quite big. I dunno if you've ever had a baguette. You are like, Am. And then this massive crunch, and then suddenly, all these like flakes of bread landed all over me and all over the floor. And I was on my own. I was doing this trip on my own. My friend was working during the daytime, and suddenly, all these teeny tiny little birds just came and started eating, landing on the table, the floor, one landed on my lap. And there was something really lovely about it, as if they've come to keep me company or we were having lunch together, and I wanted to write a poem about it. And this is the poem I wrote. It is in the shape of a bird. "Amber leaves litter the concrete, raindrops drip, drip, drip. Puddles reflect branches above. I take my first bite. The bread is crusty, crunchy, crumbs cascade to the floor. Seven birds appear, all beady eyes and dirty beaks, no taller than my thumb. They puff their chests and shake their tails. They bob their heads and hop, skip, and bounce. They chase and cherish every grain until that is I take my last bite, and they're gone.".