I had a dream.
In the dream I was walking and there were dead birds all around my feet. I picked one up and its body was still limp. The birds were beneath my bare toes and I could feel the silk of the feathers, and the crunch of the bones.
The dream lingered with me that morning. Later, I went downstairs to my studio, and under my easel was the body of a dead bird. I have consequently spent the last few months painting and drawing birds. Lots of different kinds of birds, but mostly black birds.