People are being said that animals are beings who are sentient. BECAUSE THEY ARE WANTED DEAD.

People are being said that animals are beings who are sentient. First of all, it does allow them not to recognize the same for the plants (yes, sinner we(l)come in hell). Beware that we are told this just like machines. It is only an animal trait that one can recognize that an animal is an animal, just like it takes one to recognize that. I doubt is that people are so anxious to inform the ones that living in these godforsaken cities- though everyone flew the countryside as it has been killed, depleted, dramatically shrunken and tortured systematically.

So how come we do not focus on the extraordinary intelligence and skills animals have and that of course including what we cannot even possibly think.

BECAUSE THEY ARE WANTED DEAD, OR AT OUR SERVICE, IN RESERVES OR IN THE BIN, JUST BY EXTENSION EVERYTHING. OUR SOUL AND BEING.

Hear say, AS VAIN, as the void of vanity.

So what could be retribution then?:

TO LET US here on this planet that we know we are killing. And then we would like stay forever, whereas the day is near when the data, all the data of life, that she nurtures, she manages to still nurture will following a cliff-pattern rear and drop

Of course in term of retribution I am not talking about this planet with her thousands, millions of species that are innocent, non-guilty of anything but sharing our mother; but of a planet that we imagine exist and that we continue killing, and that we will be, be bound at this rate to inhabit forever whenever. In fact, maybe are we already in off what we think we have and pillage instead of pilgrimage, and that we will have to stay on the idea suddenly going on, on a land that we (sanctified) sacrificed to our horror consumption and debility and that we will not be able to live, the desecration only going on until logically there is there only left our poison. One can imagine living in a marsh of petrol, eating plastic to full one’s belly but still our soul going to heaven at the sight of another. When seeing a bird, an insect, a lichen, anything that could flourish, that you could help. But no one can help anyone when they are dead. At least not from there. As the only inspiration there would be to become, the petrol we so burn it is all gone.

The only life left the juice of mausoleum.

And all now what remains of hope is that the planet we live in is not the one we decimated millions of species every year and trillions of individuals, but only the imaginary one, where tolls are tools for perishing our (soulless) soulsssss.