What do you want, I’m eating. I see you. I see what you think. You think that I am a dumb creature and I have no sense beyond this bag stuck to my face. Damn all we might know or care about anything. Keep us, drug us with feed. Condemn us to a mine somewhere until we die, no hope of fresh air or natural light again. No problem. We only want our feedbag. Is that it? Look I may be no Incitatis with gold flakes in my oats and a high paid job, but I am more than you think. I am real. I don’t speak, no. But not because of this bag, whatever you might say. We see you. You think we are gently champing our oats, regarding you silently. We see you. And I cannot speak for us all but what I see, what I’ve seen, freezes me to a solid and chills me to silence. I’m filled with it. Look at the things you have done. Don’t you get it? Look between my legs for a start. What do you want me to say? Incomprehensible idea. If I were to verbalize something I would be placing myself into human rationality. No thank you. You poor brutes.