I have a neighbour nearby who breeds fighting cocks. Honestly, I don’t agree with the practice, but he’s been doing it for years. You can tell he knows a great deal about it, and his roosters are always a spectacle for me there at the edge of the street. He brings them out early, just as the sun begins to warm the front of his house, and there they flap their wings, stretch, allowing the blood to flow naturally, energising their bodies, connecting with themselves in that intelligent way animals do—and we ought to observe them closely and take a leaf out of their book. 

Just like babies, those movements they make in the cot, trying to reach their feet with their hands, shifting their little legs from side to side, stretching, relaxed... Today I paused there for a while, and while chatting with him, I took these photos. Not many, but I think it was the prelude to what I saw afterwards. As if my mind had opened to certain scenes within everything there was to see along the way.

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<img src="https://files.peakd.com/file/peakd-hive/nanixxx/23wMaJbvEgTfVYm8wUoiTkWC3NH8sGUx5mgVJi7AQUeH95DSb5FYy2piWaAkhUe7Pzswd.jpg" alt="$1">
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Afterwards, everything looked like this... reflective, slow-paced, abundant...


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<em>Havana, 21st November... between 8 and 10 a.m.</em>



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<sub>Original content by @nanixxx.</sub> <sub>All rights reserved ©, 2025.
Every image I include in my posts is mine. When it’s not, I credit the source in a caption.</sub>
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