I have gazed into the abyss, and it has thumped its chest back at me.

Two ships, crossing each other's wake, both rocked, if only a little. Life, death, and what it means to be, are the essence of what Ishida writes. What is? The gorilla. What does he mean to be? Dead. His journey, short yet sweet, exposes the rawness and sincerity woven throughout the pages. What is his backstory? Gorilla. What is his purpose? Gorilla. Why? Gorilla. Some may see these answers, and assume everything in the story to be constructed from a foundation of simplicity. I disagree. These are not the answers of a simplistic story, but an honest one. The gorilla has no motive, no beliefs. no black-and-white morals to monologue to the audience, as if they were too beige to reflect on the meanings of what they read for themselves. The gorilla simply is. The gorilla is, and in doing so, you are. Pondering? Reflecting? Cheering on, or praying for the gorilla's downfall? I do not know what you are doing, but you are doing it. And because nothing but gorilla has been given to you, anything past gorilla is unmistakably you, wrapped in a raw honesty that acts to fill what this story leaves empty. As such, everyone has their own interpretation of the work. Many may be similar, but I argue that none are truly the same.

The colors are a great example of where these differences lie. In chapter 1 (day 1), we get the first background colored a light red, with the following two being yellow. Some may take the coloring at face value. Some may see the red as a metaphor, or omen, for death. Some may see the beating of the chest as the essence of monke, which is then subtly extended by the banana-yellow background. I accept all of these theories and add onto them a layer of continuity. The red stands on its own - a moment frozen in time, yet the yellow panels are alive with movement, flowing into each other so naturally, it only makes sense to color them the same. if they are to be colored the same, why not make them banana-yellow to better fit the monke? This essence of banana-chronology grants the story a sense of scale beyond the 3 panels the first page so efficiently uses

That being said, my preferred interpretations of this work delve more into the realm of meta-analysis. In particular, I take an interest in the number of pages and panels. The first chapter's multiple panels don't just literally say the gorilla is alive but say that the story itself is alive. The dynamics and movement from one panel to the next contrast heavily with the following chapter, where a single image is all that is needed. The gorilla is dead. What else do you need? The gorilla was the story, hence the story died with it.

The gorilla has gazed into the abyss, yet he sees only himself, as he is.