Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every step you take
I'll be watching you
Sting
The polar bear paces back and forth, restless. Small space, not much room to move. To pace, yes - but to run with wild abandon, no. He has not much to challenge his mind. Everything is given to him to live - food, water, his space cleaned out for him. He is there to be seen. Possibly, someone will learn something from observing him.
Many faces watch him walking this way and that. Young faces, old faces, pressed to the glass, breath fogging up the windows. It doesn't matter how many, just many eyes. Peanutbutter is mixed with snow, hidden in an upside down garbage barrel. As if there is any challenge in that. Still, he digs out the food. Apples are stuck with peanut butter on the clear surface, the pane with faces and hands pushed close. He lumbers over and stands up to reach it. The eyes can see his underbelly and the great size of his paws. Watching, always watching, but not seeing. He tries to ignore them. Same thing day in and day out. Endless repetition - fidgety parading, back and forth, to and fro. The eyes, they smile in wonder at the sight before them. He is so beautiful in his shaggy white mane, a grand vision. The beast is lucky. He is alive.
The beast, he continues his pacing, restless. It's in his eyes that the others don't see. He is alive, but not living.
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