the locus of my focus is hocus-pocus

Last night I was in Glasgow, in George Square. It was late afternoon, overcast and snowing lightly. A man was straining up at the sky with binoculars in his hand. He turned to me and said, " Can you see that up there? That eagle? I can't make out what type it is." He handed me the binoculars and I pressed them to my eyes. I looked up and saw a rectangular form and I could make out a spotted pattern, unlike any eagle I'd ever heard of, never mind seen.

Within an instant it was coming in to land. Much to my awe and bemusement it wasn't an eagle at all. It was a flying lynx with flaps of skin between its legs like the sugar gliders and the flying squirrels. It came to land like a fighter jet settling on a warship. For a few precious moments it stood stationary surveying the square before padding off hastily towards the East End. Naturally, I pursued.

I'm not sure how, but I managed to keep it in sight, following it through some strange architecture; concrete passageways and tunnels confused with scrub and coniferous bushes, until eventually it paused on a gigantic flight of steps. I wasn't certain if the people around us were indifferent or simply oblivious.

Desperate to document the extraordinary beast, I reached for my camera, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get it in focus.

I awoke thinking about getting up to see if I'd managed to capture anything on film. Gradually that thought gave way.