I’d never known of a butterfly to be a burden until this Painted Lady found its way into my line of sight and locked upon me, dancing a jagged dance closer and closer my way, it’s fluttering wings sending heavy waves of breeze toward me, it’s antennae probing me from afar and it’s neutral tones mesmerizing me. I observed it peacefully until with a simple, twisted swoosh it flew supernaturally straight at my face and through the pupil of my eye to reside in my mind.
Those manic nights in your city didn’t quite manufacture me to be what I am now, but they certainly contributed to my infamous need for love and oblique passion. It’s fine to detest a lover if you have to.
You’re here because he wants to teach you how compelling the vertigo of a new moon can be. Don’t resist the fall.