A Grey squirrel considers her monument

Guildford squirrel

Here (she thinks, in squirrel thoughts) I will have my monument, atop this hard, massive thing created by the ancient humans. And like the ancient humans, I will be displayed in a noble pose, the great matriarch of my squirrel clan, progenitor of countless generations – many, many more than the number of these things! – of children, who in their turn became mothers and fathers, progenitors of countless generations. (She adopts a pose.) My image will be like this: regal, resilient, compassionate, profound. (She senses a human approaching and turns to look.) Come no further, human, but admire, if you must, from a distance. (The human stops and points something at her. She returns to her pose.) Here, I will have my monument and the squirrel clan will gather to honour and remember me. But how will I create it? Ah, when the time comes, I will, like the humans, imagine it into existence.