If only goats had evolved differently, developing the specific vocal folds and larynx, think what a story they might tell.
Jeremy Fallsworth Kell. One of the Blue Mountain Kell clan--- Hagley Gap to be specific. The big family spat out children like a cut-rate combine. On the downhill slope of thirteen babies in fifteen years, Jeremy hardly raised a ripple upon his arrival. Though parents loved their children, so many in the brood left precious little time for individual experience. So, when the iconic Koromantyn up the mountain provided chance outlet for the young man, goat husbandry became an apprenticeship. The man himself rose to the role of parent, mentor, groomer, trainer and… well, family. Maybe not by blood, but by every other measure. And then some.
Banishment to the capitol city after a calamitous sundering split the trip of goats from the young herder. Luckily, Kingston goats apparently communicated by the greater Jamaica goat pipeline. The boy saw them everywhere as he adapted to city life. The beasts watched.
Becoming a father at barely eighteen changed the entire equation. Challenging the goatherd-cum-student to scale more than mountains in the metamorphosis to principled philosopher as foretold by the stars.
Yes, the Jamaica goats in Ambergai Gee’s herd most certainly had stories to tell. If perchance they were to grant audience to such a forum, the storytelling would be undoubtedly raveled in Lyaric: lilting dialect of the Rastafari. To a calypso beat. Claro que si…
樂天KOBO
