But when I saw these vintage ceramic pigeons at an antique shop in Portland, they called out to me. I looked at them, and no bile rose in my throat like it does when I spy the newest piece of cutesy owl artwork.
And you know what? I love them on a level that goes beyond, "hey, these are pretty." I realize that every craftsy young woman has them. They're not quirky or unique at all. But I'll be damned if they aren't wicked cool. And, uh, I know this sounds really lame but they make me feel peaceful and happy whenever I look at 'em.
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