He exists but only as in his mother s belly, seven layers deep in protective darkness. Tomorrow, he will give a lecture on homeostasis in megagalactic cosmonautics but not now. Now He s curled up, sleeping. And, uh, it produced an ironic, thoughtful poetry, fierce about the independence of, of everybody s private life, and of the privacy of thoughts. The buzzard has nothing to fault himself with.
Scruples are alien to the black panther.
Piranhas do not doubt the self-critical jackal doesn t exist. The locust, alligator, trakina, horse fly live as they live and are glad of it. The killer whale s heart weighs 100 kilos but in other respects is light. There is nothing more animal-like than a clear conscience on this third planet from the sun. Speak of irony.