We all know our shadow. It follows us like glory follows virtue or nature pursues a vacuum. Every man and every pig casts a shadow. And turn as they will, their shadow always falls opposite to the light.
Shadows are short at noon, long at evening. They flicker about the rafters in the dim lights of bars and barns. There is even a valley where death casts a shadow.
Science tells us that nothing in the universe can travel at the speed of light but light, forgetful of the shadow’s speed. And forgetful of the speed of pigs that follow the meanderings of the feed bucket as if they were that bucket’s shadow.
the Porcine Oracle
And when circumstance turns on its bright hot light, a lot of people, and likely some pigs, will have to walk out of the shadows which futurity casts upon the present.
Then their shadow is the means by which bodies display their form. The full natures of pigs and men, as they aspire to greatness, could not be understood but for their shadows.