I passed the synagogue this morning, coffee in one hand, camera in the other. Even before I turned the corner, I could hear the building calling out, with the insistent voices of many sparrows. I narrowed the source down to those two rows of tiles; each one probably harbours another nest of hungry babies. Hungry and letting the world know about it.
This sparrow (Youngster? Almost adult? Unhappy adult?) was standing alone on a tile, complaining.