the scent of wet fur
huddled close in the dark storm
fine red umbrella
The scene so small in scale reminds us that there is a world, there are whole ecosystems, underneath our feet, in places we never think to look, because to see would require us to get onto our knees, to dirty ourselves in the muck we have come to see ourselves as superior to, instead preferring hard, sanitary, unyielding concrete. And so we miss the lives of the minuscule because we lack the necessary imagination to think that there could be something worth investigating, something fascinating, in the places too dirty, too hard to fit into, too inconvenient to observe.
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