The most pernicious of hominids, that’s us. Me and my pair-bonded partner, members of the species Homo sapiens. We stare out at you, taking refuge in each other’s presence. The awkwardness, the signs of ageing are perhaps uncomfortable to see. We are vulnerable, we will definitely die within the next few decades.

This is it, we are all we have, just these odd bodies. Bizarre to think of how rapacious we are, how much we need in order to make sense of our lives. Our forever homes, our well-reviewed vehicles, our artisanal feed, our rites and rituals.

When underneath it all, we are just a collection of limbs attached to a sac of organs, perceiving the world, if we are lucky, through a few limited senses. We are creatures of ideas, built on substrates of fantasy through which we drag these curious fleshly lumps, primping and fussing, fasting and bingeing, biting, jeering, touching, using, judging, loving.

-Deborah Poynton