Cows

Laying in a grass field, you’re enjoying the sky. Smell your surrounding; grassy, grassy, grassy—grass is all you can smell… until one of your cows pooped behind you. 

Blegh.

Cows, cows, cows. Your parents own some, so do your aunt and uncle; your cousins milk cows, and so do you. Your neighbors talk about cows, their children talk about cows; even you are talking about cows with all these cow-obsessed people! Your mom often tells you that you should own as many cows as you can, and she always compares you with Annie, your cousin who owns 13 cows.

Come on, that’s boring!

Everyone you know spends their entire life doing cow-stuff in this small cow-filled island, and you can’t swallow the pill that you’ll have to do this your entire life. Is there something beyond this? What’s “there,” beyond the horizon? Is this all there is?

When you mention the “there” to Cogy, your cousin you grow up with, he thinks you’re stupid; when you mention it to your dad, he tells you that you’re a fool; when you mention it to your neighbor, he gives the what-are-you-talking-about face.

You know, within the deepest chamber of your heart, that there’s something out there, yet nobody is interested about it. Everyone is busy with cows, because for them, this cow place is all there is!

Are they all fools… or are you the crazy one? You don’t know, and neither do they. What you know is that you’re tired with all these cow-stuff.

The cow dung smells so bad that you quit your mid-day sky gazing session. One of your cows come to you and starts licking your hand.

Blegh.