The Bin, the Ladle, the Madness: Field Notes from a Feral Witness

I think it started with the mushrooms.
But maybe it started with me.

He lives behind Bin Cluster 7.
Walks upright. Carries a dinosaur ladle.
Looks at me like I’m the strange one.

I gave him a name Rupert von Bin because someone had to.

I’ve watched him make soup from things that shouldn’t be soup.
Mushrooms, mostly. Things that glow if you squint.
He stirs them in broken yogurt cups and drinks like it’s a sermon.
Then he screams at the clouds and baptizes gravel.

I don’t know if I’m studying him anymore, or if I’m obsessed.

I wrote it down so I could let it go,
— Elsie Thorne