hennry kady's blog : COLORS RUN AFTER
I've been chased by a brimstone butterfly for about two hours. He must have appeared somewhere at the intersection of the forest and field lanes and hadn't left my side since. I lift my foot, it folds the wings, I lower it, it flaps them. I let him go, because people are haunted by all kinds of things, in their dreams and on their walks.
If I walk a while longer, maybe his wing flapping among the other sounds of the forest will reach my ears and remind me of the importance of paying attention to the little things. Until then, I'll concentrate on the beauty of the forest, where color has finally returned after a long winter.
My flapping friend is just a yellow blob on the fresh green that sprouts from the branches and stretches towards the sun. The birds sing even though I am the only one listening to them. Even if I weren't here, their melodies would sound in the forest. In addition to their freedom to fly, that's what sets them apart from humans.
I stop to listen to a particularly beautiful sequence of notes. A bird starts the song, a second answers. It's only five or six notes that are enough to cast a spell over me for a moment. I turn around, the brimstone is making a circle, then another. It won't fly any further until I move. The animals behave very strangely in spring, I realize and continue my walk.
Sometimes the sun is blinding, sometimes it is caught by the leaves of a beech tree. The wind rustles in the treetops and tells a story the meaning of which would open up to a willing listener if only he had enough patience. But neither I nor my winged companion have the time for it today. Far too much is happening in front of our eyes, reaching our ears and beguiling our noses. I can hardly keep up with my senses to pursue every sensation, and I do not envy the butterfly for its little butterfly world.
We follow the sunlit path for a while until we come to a clearing on the slope. A few meters below is a bench on which I want to rest. He too seems tired and follows me on the spot. I lower myself and hold out my hand so he can relax for a while. He accepts the offer without hesitation, sits down and lets the wings drop.
It weighs little more than the rays of the sun on my hand and is of a similar yellow. Our eyes wander, first down into the valley, then to the other side, where the farms are and the trees are only allowed to grow one by one in the fields. A small red spot appears between the green of the meadows, the yellow of the sun and the blue of the sky.
My gaze turns to the brimstone butterfly, on whose left wing a red point is visible. (Printed Circuit Board Assembly) Red like human blood. Startled, I lift my finger to wipe it off when the brimstone suddenly soars into the air and flies away. I quickly jump up to pursue him. He is too nimble, slipped my hand at the last moment and pranced through the trees.
I follow him far into the forest, where the trees are thicker and it is more difficult to see him with the eye. Clever as he is, he only flies so far away that I think I'll catch him at any moment, only to catch a hook and flee in the other direction. Soon we reach a large beech, the branches of which meander up the trunk like steps.
There it stops, flies around the tree twice before swinging up and telling me with a hook-shaped movement that I should follow it. I carefully grab the first branch that hangs just a few centimeters above my head and pull myself upwards. The butterfly is now two meters above me on another branch. I quickly heave myself up in the hope of catching it. Again he escapes me, but immediately sits down on the next branch.
I climb the tree further, meter by meter, the moth is only a hand's breadth away, but never close enough to catch it. The trunk is getting thinner, I am getting weaker, more and more the moth seems to merge with the sun. I'm so high up that I'm afraid the thin branches can no longer support me. So I stop and look up.
My yellow companion flies away towards the sun. Their bright light robs me of my view, I turn away. When I look again, two blue lights revolve around her. I fall. In the treetops the birds scream like sirens. I'm flying backwards with my back to the ground. Again I see the red. Infinite pain. Fear.
Then I come up, I land on my feet, asphalt under me and I run, fast, very fast, almost like a sprint. The blue, the red disappear, again I see the forest, the path I'm walking leads straight into it. Everything is normal, air flows through my nose to my lungs, the pain has stopped, I am just out of breath.
At the fork in the road that leads into the forest, I stop to rest for a moment. Everything seems so peaceful in the quiet light of the sun that is now high above me. Suddenly a flutter makes me look up. A tiny, yellow butterfly describes an arc in flight and passes me.
I watch him go and wonder where he's going. For a moment I consider running after him. But a strange premonition holds me tight. I watch him for a few more seconds and watch him disappear into the forest. Then I continue my run without knowing where butterflies fly in spring.
In:- Expert