The little blue car entered the housing estate slowly, turned right, and right again. Slower, it pulled into the driveway and docked to the semi-detached red-brick house, as the receiving aircraft mates with the nozzle of the big tanker in the sky. No. As a piglet latches on to its mother.
It was only 4 pm. Soon all the cars would be back to their station, muzzle first, like a row of little piglets suckling a great big brown sow. Across the road, a similar brown sow rested on its side, weary, nursing her piglets for the night. All around the estate, great big sows, lying on their flanks.
Her piglets could come and go during the day, in relative freedom, to the jobs, the pubs, or their weekly sporting activities. The great big sow however was confined behind steel bars, unable to move, her only purpose in life to produce and feed piglets.
The great big sow felt lonely sometimes. She could see, but not connect to the other sow across the road. The battery of other breeder sows in the rest of the estate were even more inaccessible. Sometimes she felt sad too, an unbearable sadness, that her piglets were taken away from her so soon, to be sacrificed. But mostly, she felt an absence of feeling…
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