i wonder what it is that attracts me to dead insects clinging. their stillness yes. their resemblance to the living, a turn to art i suppose, ephemeral, but so still and rooted in the moment they go on resonating in the mind. their beauty, their natural expression, their invitation to ponder life and death, their life and death. a small offering.

this grasshopper seems to be charred on one side and the belly eaten. a wing is extended like a wave. i'm still here.