¨The cows on the street, which were moving with the crowd, squatting with the squatters, walking about with those just walking about, stopping with those stopping: poor cows with their coats turned into mud, obscenely skinny, some as skinny as dogs, consumed by fasting, with eyes eternally attracted by objects and destined for fatal desillusion. It was almost night fall and they were squatting at the cross-roads under some traffic light or another, in front of the main doors of disordered public buildings: black heaps, grey with hunger and bewilderment".
Pier Paolo Pasolini, ¨The Scent of india".
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