etherised

I thought those were yellow dying leaves on the tree. They turned out to be clusters of yellow flowers. It's strange how something so full of life should be perceived as dead or dying. But I suppose that's one of life's little ironies, like humans. The joke's on us who die every day we live. But the beauty lies in the death, the final resting place that irons out all the kinks in relationships; death that eternalises the remnants of your beauty like a butterfly stretched out and pinned to a display board.

The other day while filming at UCC, an ant sauntered past my knife. I pushed it onto the knife and at once it scuttled along the cutting edge, occasionally folding its body across the jagged teeth, as if willing itself to be chopped into two. I thought I would be kind and help it in its self-destruction, however, much to my consternation, my kind hearted friend flung it onto the floor. And to think I named it Albert.

We live for the rare moments of connection, be it human or ant. It's all in the eyes, (or the feelers).