blinds raze the sighthound stabs at the slats that stop the sun from spilling into a room robbed of all the sound it once struggled to find space for. with the pad of one paw, he parts the shell shielding a window from any unwelcome eyes that might wander this way. and when he sees the biped beasts who cover their shame with cotton and colouring agents, he howls. 250622 what's it to you? who go blather from