I wonder if I’m going the right direction? thought Blurtso, walking across the field. I wonder if I’m making progress? If the world is round, the direction forward is also the direction back. And vice versa. Hmmm, I wonder who invented the idea of progress?
Happiness, thought Blurtso, sitting on his haunches with his boxing-glove nose supported on his front left hoof. I see the others, he thought, moving here and there, sniffing and peering, obeying and straying, leading and following with a need on the pillow, a need that stirs them in the morning and settles them in the night. And somehow the reward emerges, from the silence and babble, from above or below, a series of notes rising, repeating in the sound of hoof after hoof after hoof.