bodies raze they're such strange things. we're all just domesticated animals, our throats thick with a language we've convinced ourselves is more elevated than the grunts and groans and clicks and chirps the wild ones use to communicate the same things we flinch from. here are my claws. and here are my webbed feet. and here is the food the last fox trap left me with, half-eaten but otherwise unharmed. do with it what you will. 231111 what's it to you? who go blather from