ABSTRACT
The deer lying by the side of the tarmac; the raccoon on his back grotesquely bloated as if about to burst; the flattened gray-black wing feathers of a starling, eerily fluttering in the breeze on a highway—all that is left of a buzzard’s meal. The haunting ears of a rabbit, still visible though smashed onto the cement, the rest of her undecipherable in a blotted mess of fur and tissue; or the twisted spine, and the small, almost beseeching handlike paws and surprising red entrails of the common gray squirrel, this one too unfortunate to make it to the other side of the road in time. These are some of the everyday images that catch our eyes or that our glance evades as we hurtle along highways and glide through housing subdivisions in our cocoons of cars.
