Reveries
Before we are born we never felt the warmth of the sun on our skin. Why is it so welcome and familiar?
In the womb our skin is bathed constantly in liquid. How does the breeze's caress give such reassuring pleasure?
We did not thirst before birth, yet what compares to the simple, completely satisfying slake of water?
In the past I would be surprised when a leaf or a piece of bark suddenly transformed into a moth and flew away. About five or ten years ago I began to notice moths that changed into leaves or bark. This morning I saw a caterpillar that became a birds feather fluttered by a breeze.
First I saw the world as less alive than it was and now I see the opposite. Both may be camoflage, but I like it better this way.