I know not many people like the idea of having a dead animal in their home.
When I was a child I always wanted a fox scarf. I was highly aware that it was a dead fox and still I wished I had one. I wished I had this dead fox with whom I could cuddle.
Life can be so paradox.
I have this magpie from a woman who's grandpa had magpies in his garden and he let someone make this preparation for him and the woman did not want to keep it. And I – what should I say – I love it.  And when getting reactions from others about it, I feel ashamed that I like it so much, because I can understand them, but still I want to keep it. Even though I know it is a dead bird, I don't see death in it when I look at it at all.
What is death anyway.

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