Every day it was the same thing. Wake up, catch the first breeze of fresh morning air, before it got polluted with exhaust fumes.

Looking out over the city. His view was marvelous, never boring. He really had the best view anyone could imagine.

He loved his city, he never was involved in local politics, but being on his spot he felt it was his city. He sacrificed enough for king and country, so he thought he could claim the city as his own, at least for as long as he was there.

But with first light came his foes. He couldn’t do anything about it, they came every day. There was nothing he could do about it, he hated them, wanted to kill them, wanted to destroy them and their homes, burn every last one of them.

But no, nothing he could do.

After all, he had lost an eye, and an arm.

And being carved in stone made him even more of an easy target for the pigeons