Why write this? Do I even care?

Do I care that there is very little written about zoophilia and literary fiction? Is it the act of sex between a human and an animal that attracts me?

I think it is more about the idea of the unspeakable. The idea that there is an unspeakable thing. I am always drawn towards what can't be said. It is my job to find the words because there are always words to be found. I remember being fascinated by the idea of describing colour. It must have been primary school, I remember sitting in class and imagining how you would speak red or blue or my favourite colour, that colour of the sea when it is not blue and not green but something close to both those colours and with sunlight infusing the whole palate with a kind of glow.

Perhaps the idea of animal sex is like the idea of speaking colour. When I watch the pornographic images on the forbidden websites I shake my head. This isn't the language of bestial love. There is no love for one thing, there is little pleasure for another. I prefer to imagine still images, the image of a collie leaping into the air to catch a stick, all that playfulness and erratic energy, the image of a child curled into a canine hug, the image of a girl with her head resting on the shoulder of her pony, the slick of sweat outlining flank and cheek. The gorgeousness of transgression, the joy of it, and yet, also the darkness, the fear, the hidden thought of it.

John A Scott calls it 'the exhilaration of sin'.

This from Xavier Pons Messengers of Eros:

"The practices that society frowns upon are often labeled perversions. There is something both exhilarating and constrictive about them - the exhilaration of being at once different and true to one's own nature, and the constriction that comes from the risk of being found out and of paying the price for one's transgressions. At bottom it is perhaps this delicate balance between gratification and apprehension that is enjoyable."