Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • February morning in Italy: A cappuccino, good book, cigarette, and a window. Sitting in the corner at a café, brooding over ice covered mounts.

    Surveying the bay as a slow moving storm slips overhead. Watching old fisherman release their nets hoping to catch this evening’s meal. Seagulls soar above, watching; their way so simple.

    Their home is where they choose. It could be a rock on the shore, a ship’s mooring lines, a car’s roof, or a blanket of air across the vast, never-ending sky.

    I sit listening to conversations surrounding. Words of ignorant life, but so sweet the views from the inside, not knowing that I sit smiling, wanting only a glimpse.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.