There’s a video of a lynx burying another lynx in the snow in what people on the Internet perceive as a show of mourning and care. It’s gone viral as a testament to how warm and civilized the beast really is. A quiet polemic. The video is severed and missing the first part, where the one performing the burial killed and ate the carrion it’s now submerging, which it will tuck into fresh snow to save for the next hunger. What I glimpse in the eyes of the cat being filmed, spotted, tracked on its hunt, is the paranoia of the double who realizes that what it killed will be reborn when it’s eaten and become the soul of the killer, that soon the invasion will be complete, that it’s burying itself alive there. The animal is stamping its impulse into the earth as a new vein, an unweathering, already ruptured, carrying the new blood, thick roses in the row of footprints on the lens