We eat dinner at a restaurant decorated with dozens of bird cages hanging from the cathedral ceiling. The cages are empty and illuminated from inside, casting light up through the bars to the ceiling and returning an ambient glow down over the dimly-lit dining room. It is an attractive effect, but the sight of this profusion of birdless bird cages becomes unbearably funny poignant eerie after about five minutes and a cocktail. “Oh my god … all the birds have escaped!” “Shhh! They’re in the kitchen!” (Mine were served tastily in a lagoon of tamarind sauce with a side of sticky rice.)
