evening thoughts.

A thousand perfume scents, all mixed up in the air, throughout the streets and alleys. Behind the many walls surrounding Mother Earth, its least generous species scurries for shelter. They think they move along, but they can only cringe. In fear. In make-belief rapture. Countless jolting paranoid eyes which are surely able to see, though incapable of focusing. Long story short, one truthful gaze is lethal for them.
They reproduce as though they were rats, but they loathe rats. They run as though they were horses, but they ride horses. They eat as though they were pigs, but pigs disgust them. They get needy as though they were dogs, but they pet dogs. They kill when they act themselves.
One round of applause to... mankind.