The pictures of boys napping beside cows. A softness
about them: crook of neck, delicate folds of skin,
slack muscle. Their faces ruddied with winter. I like
them because when they sleep, they neutralize all
that is within them which could cause harm, leaving
behind only what is loveable. They can soften: The
boys, no longer putting on their hard and weathered
shows, the cows no longer lumbering under the
weight of their big bodies. Is is this that softens
them. They cannot trample, cannot yell, cannot
charge. It is this that makes them safe to look at- this
interlude of grace, though it cannot last.
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