The Pigeons of Princes Road ....

... they group together; together in solidarity on street corners like lads up to no good.
Loitering, unperturbed by the passing traffic, to the left to the right of them. The bikes making them scatter then regroup, waiting, waiting for what?

....they stay solid in their variation, their colours , their plumage as varied as their human counterparts, for here is every religion, creed and colour represented in one street.

The street where Greeks, Romans, Jews, and Christians all worship at the same street corner, where the Halal butcher trades, next to the organic bakery, next to the international store, where the Somali refugees flee to a terrace house on the corner attracted by the flag hanging from the upstairs window.

The hostel, open to all those in need, of food, sleep, drugs & drink, next to the e bus stop, regularly, ritually smashed, leaving glass scattered like crushed ice across the pavement.
The ladies in full burka or hijab with their gowns of colour move furtively from house to bus stop, their chattering children all around them, swapping expertly from arabic to fluent Scouse.

The pigeons hang out in the centre of the avenue, waiting, watching imitating all that they see.