I can't find you. I am lost, my love. Call out.

When I was wandering Portland with friends, we ended up visiting several art galleries, which seem to be everywhere there, which is lovely.  We were waiting for an old friend and two new friends to meet us for brunch, and we went into a little shop/gallery on Mississippi, the name of which escapes me, and upstairs there was an installation with birds, birds, and more birds.  There were little paper birds clipped to strings running across the room, just low enough for me to hit my head on them, and pictures and prints of birds and maps of where birds lived, and there was this huge print on one wall, part of which is here.  I took a picture and focused on the words because I wanted to remember them.  It was this sort of kitschy print that looks like something from a kids magazine from the '50s, one bird in flight and one bird sitting on a rock or on the river bank (I can't remember) and then the words above.

So, we've got two birds, let's call them Bird A and Bird B, or how about Andy and Beatrice?  Okay, so Andy's flying to the right, and Beatrice (not pictured) is sitting, facing left.  (I don't know why I chose the male bird to be the active one, but I'm pretty sure it has to do with which bird I identify rather than any sort of latent sexism.)  There are two lines of text, thought or speech, though I guess thought fits better because birds don't speak, at least not these birds, not in a language we can understand, but I suppose it could be some sort of birdspeak...  Anyway, the speakers or thinkers aren't identified, and though you can't see it in the picture I took, the birds are pretty much equidistant from the text, but there are, like I said, two lines of text, and then there's a change in the color of the text for the last two words, which could be another indication of a change in speaker.  So this gives us many possibilities as to which bird the thought/speech belongs to (though it's also possible they belong to someone or something else entirely, but as the birds are the only things present besides water, rocks, and trees, I think it belongs to them) but I think these are a few of the most likely:

Andy: I can't find you.
Beatrice: I am lost, my love.
Andy & Beatrice: Call out.

Andy: I can't find you.
Beatrice: I am lost, my love.
Andy: Call out.

Andy: I can't find you.
Beatrice: I am lost, my love.  Call out.

Andy: I can't find you.  I am lost, my love.
Beatrice: Call out.

Andy: I can't find you. I am lost, my love.  Call out.
Beatrice: ...

While I think it's fairly safe to assume the bird in flight, Andy, is the one to whom the words "I can't find you" belong, as he seems to be searching, they could almost as easily be Beatrice's.  And while it might seem more likely that "I am lost, my love" belongs to Beatrice, as she is sitting, waiting, seemingly lost, I think I like the possibility that they're Andy's more.  In fact, I think I like the last of the above possibilities the best.  The idea that Andy is flying around, searching for Beatrice, and that he is the one that's lost only because he is separated from her and is just hopinghopinghoping that she calls out, so much so that he speaks or screams or squawks it aloud or thinks it so very forcefully, so that he can find her, just feels right to me, perhaps only because I see a lot of myself in Andy.

And so now, you, like me, can think of Andy when you see a bird flying alone, and hope for him, that he will find his love; and when you see a bird sitting alone, calling out, you can think of Beatrice and hope for her, that she will be found.  I know this is only the second post here and that I have few, if any, readers, but if you, dear reader, are interested in thinking about two birds stuck forever in time and the love they share (or the love one feels for the other; both possibilities are there), like I am, please share your interpretation of the saga of Andy and Beatrice, or let me know if you like any of the above possibilities better or see another interpretation that you prefer.