My blood was boiling, which is not a good thing for a coldblood.
Dracula was dead. Rex was dying or dead.
Breakfast was dying.
And I was caring about it all. Meanwhile, that blasted Gunnar did nothing but sit and stare at his teevee all day.
He was the reason we were all here, the reason we were suffering and dying,
and he barely noticed us.
I hissed so hard it hurt.
Tag: animals ethics animal-rights pets humans captivity
From the pavement, I could see the window of Albertine’s room, that window, formerly quite black, at night, when she was not staying in the house, which the electric light inside, dissected by the slats of the shutters, striped from top to bottom with parallel bars of gold.
Marcel Proust« prima precedente
Pagina 2 di 2.
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.