Last evening, a moth flew in and trapped in the world map I hung up on the wall. This was only revealed when I dared to check it via morning light. In the darkness, I cautiously monitored the sound of papery rustle, which I judged as the flutter of wings of a (big) living thing like a bat. On the bed, wrapped in my jacket with hoodie on, glasses on (as a provocative defence), I was thinking to myself: shit, I was desperately scared of nature (which is a huge uncertainty to me). The fact that I prepared myself mentally for a larger living thing is also telling something: I seem to amplify uncertainty and danger conservatively.
I am enthusiast of the idea of nature but I am also a coward of the reality of nature. Once I grabbed some food and sat by port, where I literally felt threatened by some seagulls. That’s the moment I realised that I won’t be able to survive for too long if I start to live by uncivilised rules in a natural territory.
RoofGazers 