Last night I was inking on a comic page (Reichenbach: The Key, Issue 3) when a gadfly landed on the board. I tried to blow on him to shoo him off, but he stuck tight right where he was -- The guy really seemed to like that third panel, so I let him stay there. And stay, he did. I inked around him the rest of the evening and he still wouldn't move when I called it a night and went to bed.
Today I got home from work, and looking at my drawing board I saw the gadfly still right where he was the night before. I blew again to check on him. He tumbled off the board to the ground, dead.
I could have taken this moment to reflect on our mortality. I could have meditated on the beauty and preciousness of life, of our own significance in the face of Nature, of all things on Earth and the fleeting moment we all encapsulate against the vastness of a Universe going slowly cold.
I could have -- but I didn't. Instead my takeaway was that something sat down, watched me draw on a comic page, and died before I finished it
. I've gotta speed the hell up