Birds

The Square was quiet this afternoon; the children were cycling and scootering under the halle, Ghandi shuffled through the Couverts with a couple of relations, a lady in cotton tunic and wide trousers greeted a man with the Namaste Mudra and stood and chatted to him, a dread-locked man in an eskimo hat rolled a cigarette.

For no particular reason, without any apparent stimulus and with a sound like a sheet snapping in the wind, the pigeons leave the roof of the Halle, circle and land on rooves the other side of the Square

My photo doesn't do credit to their density, nor can I catch the vacuum of sound that your ears experience when they take off in mass like this.