A nightly rainy season ritual.
The dedalu is clearly unperturbed by its intensely short life-span. One day, tops.
Attracted by indoor lights, it slides under doorways and through window slats.
Outdoors, it flutters and gathers around lights.
The wings lose power.
The dedalu loses altitude, circling until it lands below.
Sometimes, on the ground, where geckos sprint to gnaw away its last breath.
Sometimes, on water, where it swirls around with the others – until ants swarm, plucking off head and wings, leaving behind a pattern of pretty insect particles on water’s surface.
I’m encountering lots of violent death so far in my catch-up of your blog 🙂
Oops, sorry about that! But in Bali, death (ok, not the violent kind) is a very tangible and daily flip-side to life 😉