And It All Happened Because...There was a little moth on my window this morning. Its wings were folded, yet I could still see how incredibly delicate they were. Like tissue paper, only more.... more pure, in a way. They were covered in little scribbled patterns, reminding me of frantically scrawled writing. And I liked the moth on my window because.....More Like This
When I was younger, I was sitting alone in my garden enjoying the warm summer's breeze, until I noticed a butterfly lying on the floor. Its wings were outspread but beautiful, and looked as if they had been kissed by Mother Nature herself. Only the butterfly was not alive, merely still and perfect in death. I remember walking over, kneeling in the dirt, and touching one of its wings lightly. The colour came off on my pudgy finger. Mother Nature's lipstick clearly didn't stick to what it kissed. And I can recall the butterfly and the kiss because....
When I was both older and younger I was walking down a country lane in spring. Harvest spiders scuttled