“I must seem so insignificant to you,” said the ladybug to the man…said the man to the city…said the city to the sky…said the sky to the sun…said the sun to universe…said the universe to God…said God to the ladybug.
To which they all simultaneously replied, “I would be nothing without you.”
I was sitting at an outdoor cafe, along a narrow sidewalk on a bustling street in early March, reading the memoirs of a writer when an insect, no bigger than a speck, landed at the top of page one hundred and five. The premature Spring awakened the insect along with my interest in nature and the insect’s tiny movements on the page. The speck of life trickled carefully yet with aplomb over the great writer’s words. Of a sudden, his memories became the backdrop for the insect’s latest adventure, a stage for its performance with me as the audience. It slid past the word whiskies before circling around Hem and finally resting in the space between Crime and Punishment. My thoughts drifted from the Buddha to Jesus before landing on Darwin and provoked an ironic smile on my face. I gave the tiny insect a few more seconds, then I shut the book and sealed its fate, immortalizing it in the words of a great writer.
An albino butterfly:
Mother Nature’s cruel compliment.
Three Life Lessons Learned from Observing Insects | Christopher Troy ©
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