This morning on my phone, I watched an orangutan in a destroyed forest attack a bulldozer, while two other primates tried to stop him. There was a third primate in the bulldozer, and I wonder if it was scared, looking through the metal and plastic of the cabin out at this enraged great ape with long arms. The scene looked like it smelled of petrichor and wood shavings, and probably the ripe smell of orange fur, sweat, and panic from two different but related animals. I’ve never been comfortable watching orangutans or gorillas at zoos. Through the green branches, even from a safe distance, you could see their eyes and facial expressions. Who are these tall, hairless creatures who eat chocolate spread in toast and pastries and who need extra smooth peanut butter? Why am I here, and why are they staring at me? I want to go home. Where is my home?
Melcontents 