There are two pigs — two pig bottles. Pig bottles more precious than the jalapeño they once promised inside. There is a squeaky rubber elephant that somehow appears to be an authentic antique toy, more so than anything else claiming to be one. Yet, there are no signs of tiny teeth having chewed on its trunk.
Four — or actually five — clown puppets are dressed in suits with double bodies: legs are present but hang over an already existing loose gown. The pigment on these gowns has long formed a friendship with the outside world; air and moisture have entered the wooden faces and cloth, some pigment dissolved and rubbed off into the air they touch.
Turn it left, turn it right, upside down and upright. Look at it from all angles. Breathe it, lick it, and consume it in every way. Paint and repeat until every possibility of seeing it from a different angle becomes redundant — until every instinct to engulf it has exhausted.