Considering the pig, a single-minded bestiary.
Considerations of humanity and hogritude, because an insufficiency of pigs is one of the great faults of all that the gods have made manifest to man.
Growing up together in the Paris suburb of Argenteuil, the Grattons sisters, Cécile and Antoinette, and their cousin Émilie Bouchere were an inseparable trio of giggles, secrets and smiles. Too soon, though, growing up became growing away from family, childhood friends and the simple secret pleasures of carousel pigs on a summer afternoon.
Pigs scratch themselves on stone-faced idols, like wooing men exploit virtue and neither comprehends the depths of pleasure or outrage…
Our days are blind dates with circumstance. Dreams are the lens through which our day’s endeavors are dissected. But, to both find our way by moonlight and then see the dawn before the rest of the world, that is each day’s true delight.
O lardpig, thy life is the heirloom of all the swine that once wallowed in these muse-haunted environs. You are like us all in the winds of eternity, more light as a leaf than important as lard.
Folks intent on other matters give an elegant proof of the law of gravity, and that pigs are curious, hungry creatures. Sorry, pigs, GoPro cameras are not edible.
