Sunday, March 27, 2011

Animal Farm

I recall travelling in Africa and regretting not taking a location-reflective novel with me. During that trip I can so clearly remember my heart and mind being so open and troubled and challenged, that I felt as though I would be able to appreciate a book to a heightened degree. When I plummet back to earth, having been humbled by new circumstances and locations, I find myself challenging old preconceived ideas, and re-thinking concepts I once believed to be fundamental truths. At these times, my consciousness is at its most absorbing.

This is the end of my fourth week living in Shanghai, and the aforementioned feelings/concerns have well and truly settled in the forefront of my mind. Thus, I decided to read Animal Farm a few days ago, after hearing some shocking and fresh accounts of the behavior of the government. I presume it is rather obvious why I chose George Orwell. All I can say is that I am now beginning to realise the significance of where I am now, and the events that lead to the current state of things. 

I have been slowly falling in love with the Boxer’s of China, yet cannot help but feel frustrated at their eternal complacence regarding their current Napoleon. Each day we buy a China Daily newspaper, and now I hear the sheep bleating in my ears so loudly I become infuriated. “FIVE YEAR PLANS AND TEN YEAR PLANS” Squealer cries out constantly, always making excuses for the present state of things by comparing it to the horrendous past or the surely prosperous future.  Just a few days ago, a small group of active Benjamins were severely reprimanded for ‘counter-productive’ movement. I see Moses flying overhead wherever I stroll in this land, keeping thoughts of unfairness and bad luck attested to the supernatural – it would be incongruous to believe humans were somehow responsible for anything wrong with the current state of things. I am a comrade living in the Hens’ quarters. We have no power when confronted with trained guard dogs. Whilst being itchily aware of what our eggs are funding, we are presently powerless.

How far away are these horses from becoming glue?
I cry for them and I fear for my feathers.

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