The Memory of an Elephant

by Alex Lasker

hurtle

Unlike you, we remember our first hours. I believe you have little memory of your lives until you are able to walk. Not us. We walk on our very first day or risk being eaten by predators. I hovered under the massive shadow of my mother, tripping and stumbling blindly, stuffing my face up into her belly to suck the sweet milk dripping from her breasts.

as well as a panorama of Tsavo West