As
I sit down to breath I notice Housefly, still lying frozen in front
of me. As I do, it occurs to me that, around Housefly, are White Pine
needles, Oak and Maple leaves, and a variety of other reflections of
death, decay, and transformation. I wonder why, when first I saw
Housefly days ago frozen in the Snow, I didn't attend to these other
dead things. I get curious as to why I was struck by a body and not a
needle or a leaf. I then take in that the Snow upon which Housefly
was originally lying has also transformed without my appreciation. I
wonder what else my corpo-centric perspective is blinding me to?
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