It made me nauseous. It made me uneasy. A question began to surface: why does it have to be this way? The distinct smell of bags made from cowhide stung my nose. Calfskin — the hide of the very young — turned my stomach even more.Sometimes I would imagine it. A throat cut, flesh crushed, blood pouring out; scarlet tears welling in the eyes, then going still. Veins and tendons tangled everywhere,..