Of Cattle and Men

by Ana Paula Maia

‘To die a free man is to die a lucky man.’

It’s late afternoon by the time he gets back, the sun is setting between irregular tufts of clouds and the hue of the twilight sky resembles that of a pomegranate cut in half. The clouds have dissipated, and the sunset’s reflection gleams in Edgar Wilson’s eyes, which even on sunny days are a stubborn grey colour.

Not one glimpse of the unbridled horror behind something so tender and delicious.

He catches his breath and continues: ‘As long as there’s a cow in this world, there’ll be a guy willing to kill it.’ ‘And another one willing to eat it,’ Edgar Wilson concludes after a long drag.

‘What do you think happened, Edgar?’ ‘They killed themselves.’ ‘Edgar, they’re just animals. They have no free will. They don’t think about suicide.’ ‘I think they’ve grown fond of us.’

Those who eat are many, and they are never satiated. They are all men of blood, those who kill and those who eat. No one goes unpunished.