Tiger, who am I without you other than a crocodile-out-of-water? What noise does a tiger make when it finds a cool place to sleep at night, away from the stone rigidity of her former castle -does she look at a stone, and think of the past, or does she look to the water and learn to swim? When she prowls for deer, do the crocodiles snap at her because she is without crocodile, or do they recognize her as a breathing entity, no association required? Do they share her hunger for deer or boar or white tourists – that stumbling, albino evidence that colonialism never died, it just got sponsored? What does she do when she faces them without me? Am I a crocodile without a tiger? What do I do but swim down the Nile when I think of the ways we used to float, despite all my invitations to fires and the promise of singing along to songs, that desire to yell after enough frog juice, my capacity to remember will not dissipate, and I will lie, dry-scaled, hungover against my kingdom floor, forgetting tigerlese, forgetting how we laughed under my plastic coconut tree as I learned tiger, how the word ‘organic,’ from tiger to croc, loosely translates to, ‘without poison.’

word by Liam Lachance

colour by Studio Muti

Author: Word and Colour

words inspired by colour

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