It was a sunny day during the city-wide lockdown. Every morning, everyone was required to take the throat test. With the testing stick in hand, the white-suited woman was in a position of power. She decided how my throat was going to feel that day and it was dependent on her mood.
To avoid the roughhousing to my throat, I softened her mood with some calming tactics. I sat at the table, looked her in the eyes, and with a calm tone, in Chinese, “I appreciate your hard work. Please be gentle. Thank you.” A feather turned in my throat, I said “thank you,” got up, and left.
On the way back home I saw a bird laying flat on the ground. I bent down to take a closer look and it seemed dead. I nudge it and no reaction. I looked it in the eye, acknowledging the fleeting nature of things, its eye was black and lifeless, and its body was cold.
I picked up the bird and placed it in a hidden area on the dirt and covered it with a leaf. I looked up at the clouds for a prayer. Looking up, I saw a bird perched by a window. I looked it in the eye. It flew over me and took a shit right into my eye.
Arya Salehi is a friend of uncertainty, co-designing for inclusion.