When I opened the Bottlo on Sunday morning an enormous Dragonfly blew across the ground in a curlicue of leaves and other detritus. I carefully picked it out and put it up on the desk. It seemed to exhale and it straightened itself out and we sat together quietly for a few moments while it died. I put it in a plastic money bag. By the time I got it home that evening, much of the bright tigerish yellow gold bands around its tail had faded. I scanned it… so that it in part lives on in digitized recollection of its brief but brightened glory.
“If you were designing an organism to look after life in our lonely cosmos, to monitor where it is going and keep track of where it has been, you wouldn’t choose human beings for the job. But…we have been chosen, by fate or providence or whatever you wish to call it. As far as we can tell, we are the best there is. We may be all there is. It’s an unnerving thought, we may be the living universe’s supreme achievement and it’s worst nightmare simultaneously.” -
Bill Bryson 'A Short History Of Nearly Everything'
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