The death of donkies.

We walked past it as it lay on the ground, right in the sun next to the road, drawing short breaths. His eyes looked at us, tired. The sun was hot and his leg was bent underneath his heavy body. What is the road towards death? Suffering, pain and too much thinking. We walked past him again an hour later. His leg was now straight, his breaths nearly gone. His eyes moving slowly, mostly staring straight in front of himself.
It’s the end of life.

Today I walked in the town of Atar. There it was, a donkey. He was laying on the ground with a big wound on the one leg. The blood had coagulated and it was infected, white and yellow liquid was coming out of it. The sun was burning my skin and I could imagine the suffering the donkey had to experience, lying there all day with his leg infected. Not able to move. Slowly waiting for death.


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