All the caterpillars we saw our first week have disappeared and been turned into butterflies and moths. Brown, with soft, fat bodies. Yellow and black. Black and blue and white. Neon yellow, orange, and green. And once, a tiny, perfect miniature, periwinkle and purple one. They are everywhere. The entire mountain seems to shimmer, vibrate.
(Walking to Building 01 in the cool morning, they fly into my path and brush oh so softly against my arms and face, giving a literal meaning to the term "butterfly kiss".)
Listen, I said to Elina and Gino.
And we paused.
And you could hear the moth wings fluttering against the leaves, the ground, the air.
Into spider webs and traps.