I keep thinking about Plato’s description of man–a featherless biped–and here comes Diogenes, you know, with this plucked chicken, and he throws it on the ground and says, Here, here’s what man is to you?
The definition was amended.
Skinny little chicken legs, though. How they snap so easily. So many weird, indigestible bits to the biped: tendons and cartilage, fasciae and bursae.
And so I have begun to wonder when (not if) my legs will snap, to look down feel a dread compulsion to get a move on before it happens.
