A BUG’S LIFE. The butterfly kept me company for 2 minutes (which must be a couple of months in butterfly-years) while I took pictures of us. Finally bored of me clicking away, it flew back into the green forest. But later in the afternoon the butterfly returned to solicit Heche’s attention. The domesticated bug orbited her before perching itself conveniently on Heche’s left ear. She (Heche, not the butterfly) was delighted but unfortunately no one was nearby to take a picture.
SALTY FLOWERS. Fifi (who is a romantic) suggested that the butterfly must have mistaken us for flowers. I liked that conclusion but later my brother (realistically) pointed out that the butterfly was probably taking the salt off our sweaty skin. Oh well.
The picture above reminded me of an earlier sketch I made about butterflies (Click Here). The fact is I don’t write much about butterflies, the only other prose being written in early 2004. But it rings true today as it did 7 years ago, when I was just turning 34 years old and Mikhail was a baby. The gist of the prose is that this world is simply so convincing in its realism that we often forget that…
Love is a butterfly,
And so long as you run after
This imaginary world
It hovers and flutters nearby,
Unable to come closer. ("The Butterfly")
STOP FIDGETTING, WILL YOU. Luckily, you know better, sunshine. You are an adept in dealing with both the hidden and the apparent. You are a knowledgeable lover, tutored but not mastered by this world - And I hope that you shall come near and tutor me in my turn. But please, please be patient with me, okay? I tend to grow restless and fidget a lot... especially in class.
Have a nice Thursday, butterfly.