When the rich walk
When the rich walk, they do so with an unknown number of small and relatively defenseless animals placed between the arch of the foot and the bed of the shoe. They walk with a deft and decisive lightness, not wholly unlike deer, deer not being amongst the fauna placed between foot and shoe, and hence, between rich and earth. For the rich, when they walk, there is no firmament: there are the stars above, which they know intimately and have tattooed iridescent onto the skin of hired help so their rich children may know of the cosmos on smoggy nights, and there are the warm and pliant things underfoot, from which claws, teeth, beaks, and grit have been removed prior to the walk.
The result of this lightness of gait is that a not-insignificant portion of the fine-boned creatures are spared. We should note, though, that their continued existence and hence potential springiness is neither the cause of the deft lift – the bones of the foot of the rich flex in accordance with long-established yet ever-evolving principles that govern the construction of yachts and large towers that pierce not only sky but, unknown to even those who live within them, also the strata of the earth to an equal depth – nor is it any concern whatsoever of the rich.