They said I was a nut, but that was long ago. I’ve seen how they treat us, taking our young and corrupting them. They undress them, paint them and stand them in obscene poses for others of their kind to admire, and abuse. Sometimes they are stood in windows and can be bought and sold on the open market. Their distorted images are shown in magazines. They are no more than objects of desire, or tools for pleasure and not considered living, breathing, feeling creatures. Once they are taken, their roots are lost. Their past life is gone and it is as if they are no more.

They said I was crazy, just like my sire. He was lucky, he told me, because he lived long and passed when he was old and tall and could taste the sky. He said others were less fortunate. He cried and wailed when he told me of our future.

They said I was insane, but not any more. Now they don’t say anything. They only tremble in the wind that grows each day and wait for the shouting men and their chainsaws to take them.