It wasn't really a lion. It had no mane and looked more like a comical breed of canine, in between a pug and a terrier. the garishness of its colours, bright yellow, red or orange strikes a different sort of fear; one which makes you want to look away. Its primal roar replaced by a cacophony of drums and cymbals, the brainwashing anthem of auspiciousness and good fortune.
Southern lions were Trojan horses, made to ward off Nian, the beast that lived under the sea and terrorised the village folk, destroying their crops and eating their children. perhaps, dear king when you threw your crown in the sea and crashed on our land, it was not a lion that you saw but a mimicry of a beast to protect ourselves from your hunger. "In evolutionary biology, mimicry may evolve between different species, or between individuals of the same species because the resemblance is selectively favoured. Often, mimicry evolves to protect a species from predators, making it an antipredator adaptation." but instead of being terrified, our false beast was glorified. there were many others who came after you, kings with no crowns, sitting on the carcasses of these false beasts. And as it has set itself right from the beginning, we no longer mimic to protect ourselves but be glorified by you. excerpt taken from https://www.instagram.com/p/BnDSBKLnM7z/ |