do you see dumb robots, mindless drones? creatures so devoid of consciousness they lack even that most basic instinct of self preservation? The alates, winged queen ants, would-be kings and consorts die: the shiny identical bodies piled high in shoals of waste: this one, that one, will never see another spring.

humid air, thick as jam, vibrates, with the song of cicadas—

and despite all this I see the very spirit of Shackleton reflected in a compound eye.