Actually to be completely honest, I'm not sure if the French really think of it as a war when they walk to and from the university without looking at what their feet are crushing, but still this war is nearer to me than any other, a reality. I try to tell myself that life has gone on like this before I came here and will continue to do so even after I leave, but that doesn't make it any less difficult. No, the only thing that does that is seeing the little finches and red throats come and carry off the caterpillar corpses, presumably to some grander place and purpose.
This morning as I was passing the bushes where they crawl out from I thought about King William where each spring my father burns the caterpillar nests from the trees - something he's done for as long as I can remember but something that I still see no purpose in. They don't burn them here, they just squish them underfoot - which is the crueler fate, I wonder.
And then I noticed a line of caterpillars walking parallel to the bushes, end to end, and had to do a little jump to avoid stepping on them. This was rewarded by a few strange looks by French students walking heedlessly in the opposite direction. Oh well, there's a war on and I think I'd rather be on the side of the caterpillars anyway!
This morning as I was passing the bushes where they crawl out from I thought about King William where each spring my father burns the caterpillar nests from the trees - something he's done for as long as I can remember but something that I still see no purpose in. They don't burn them here, they just squish them underfoot - which is the crueler fate, I wonder.
And then I noticed a line of caterpillars walking parallel to the bushes, end to end, and had to do a little jump to avoid stepping on them. This was rewarded by a few strange looks by French students walking heedlessly in the opposite direction. Oh well, there's a war on and I think I'd rather be on the side of the caterpillars anyway!
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