Abbatoir

Abattoir

The target of no arraignment, it lurches pitifully across the traffic lanes. Since aspic is a blasphemous word here, a cow only knows a life of autonomy. In true majestic form, it displays an absence in knowledge of the chaos it causes. Amongst the waiting drivers, there is noticeably no difficulty in abstaining from the self-indulgent and ineffective impatience ever present in elsewhere traffic jams.  All temptation to beat an amoral blast on the horn is resisted. Such allowances are made in no other place but here. The axiom is obeyed, without doubt it unites. The arid surface of the road shimmers beneath the holy mirage. Ash caked mendicants and affluent bankers alike stop dead in their tracks while along the roadside, behind the array of kitsch wares, people continue. The ascetic is rewarded as the parade slowly passes. It is the apple of their eyes. How does a humble creature arouse the awe of the masses?  An acrid invasion of the olfactory system, the odour pervades like arsenic. Is this truly a show of altruism? With the outline of skeleton clearly visible, it is archaic in appearance. No attempt is made to alleviate the scalding heat raining down upon its back. It radiates light like an amethyst in an ocean of dung.