I asked the butterfly to rest with me awhile, to pose, so that I could admire its beauty. It must have heard me for it spread its wings, enjoying the heated boulder on which it had alighted yet ever watchful for danger. And when it knew that I had captured it, it clapped its wings and off it went, leaving me with what I am showing you. Is it not beautiful, even more so since it had overwintered and carried the scars of its past? It has a history, but the butterfly alone knows its past. I can only witness its survival, remark it and admire the singular being that I encountered on Tallman.
in reverse order
rest exercise preparing to depart the void were it not for the witness who would ever have known want had transpired
No comments:
Post a Comment