in the welsh hills their is a fat women who is moane and sly. she moans and complains. and try to look after you and make stew. my milk at the door and the hills in the yard. the crows fly here and their squarking their will and surviving as too. i have a mouse or a seed from the field and yell at the robin that flys past my path. its a birds life. simpler than thy. the person putting cloths on the line,i shit onthouse things they fly in the wind. i not now how. i just simply life sarvive and fly all day. i eat and fly i sleep and fly. i have chicks and fly. i am a raven and i am simpler than thy.