I must’ve been 4 or 5, living in the house in which I saw the world for the very first time.
The dwelling had no more secrets as I had explored it in all its corners and cracks. Outside, somewhere towards the right hand side, there was a barn in which cows where standing in a row waiting to be milked, sometimes lying down, sometimes ruminating, sometimes mooing.
And towards the left hand side, there was this once pigsty barn like structure in which I couldn’t go as a cow isolated with TB was awaiting final judgment, or so it seemed.
Her name is what I can remember, as I never laid eyes on her. She must’ve been black and white like the others. But she sparked burst of indigo ignitions in my mind: Mona Blue Star.
A deep feeling of sorrow inhabitated me as I was picturing this poor creature, shivering in the damp cold night.
Outside, it was raining, and pea soup thick fog was conveying a spooky sense to the whole scene.
Rubber coated silhouettes warily extracted the last drops of milk and the last blood samples before escorting a sinister truck.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
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