Meat is murder, I guess, but this is the way we live. I’m very ambivalent about the pig. Or maybe not. Actually, I just don’t like them. I don’t like the smooth, pink, a little-too-human skin. Why can’t I be more generous? The power of a strong religio-cultural aversion, around which I can’t think any way. It can’t be their fault. Surely, it can’t be fair. I hurry past the pigs towards the goats and sheep. They share the same shed. I find them more palatable.