“But ever since he had been a child, he had wanted to know the world, and this was much more important to him than knowing god and learning about man’s sins.”
As we were walking down the street of a fairly large city I stopped to watch as an older gentleman who was selling chickens cut the throat of one of the flailing birds as a one year old child squatted beside it completely unperturbed sort of playing with its feathers. He watched as the man handed the now dead bird to his mother and got up to join her and the three dead birds they were taking home for dinner. Like most children here (and in the rest of the world) this little boy knows full well that the chicken on his plate came from the clucking animal he just saw die, a fact that I among most Americans choose to ignore at home with our daintily packaged meats that yield no clues that bacon use to oink, or that beef use to moo.
The Wandering Nomads 