Followers

Monday 11 July 2011

A CHICKEN

A chicken was walking across the road. What if, finding its motives questioned and lacking the vocabulary to explain the true purpose of the expedition, the chicken turned around at the white line in the middle to come back, only to spark another round of mindless speculation?  Would the chicken eventually be overcome by the rigours of age and expire, without ever again gaining the verge on either side, while philosophers continued to shake their fists at each other, oblivious to the chicken's death?

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