We’d zoomed and cruised and crept in safari vehicles, now we were casting that armour aside. (The animals view passengers, not as food being conveyed to them in a tray, but as part of a structure, or an animal perhaps, too large to take on.) We were to traipse through the African bush in our bodies – just our own juicy bodies.
Daybreak over the Drakenserg Mountains.
Sure, we were flanked by two armed guides, but a lot can happen as a gun is prepared. (Shoot to kill, not tranquilize: a lion won’t fall asleep mid-pounce.) I hoped no animal would lose its life because of my gustatory allure. Continue reading
The World is My Cuttlefish 