Leaf bug (Phyllium giganteum)
The constant wobbling as they move is a part of their disguise, making it seem as though the “leaf” is only moving because of a light breeze.
If you blow on one it will also shake around in the hopes of matching any actual surrounding leaves
this is a pokemon
i once again encourage you to watch all gifs to the tune of “get low”
We will be close on Friday 18 July.
We will be so close on Friday 18 July. For one night only I will hold your face in my hands and I will kiss you quickly and then slowly and then quickly and we will feel this incredible connection and we will tell each other everything.
On Friday 18 July, we will feed each other berries, and we will sing-mumble-slur old half-remembered camp songs, and we will laugh about how there was a time, not even that long ago, when we hadn’t even met, and what were we doing not meeting, who were we fooling, whose time were we wasting?
Sitting on my bed, recalling the origin of your knee’s crescent moon scar, you’ll gesticulate wildly and I’ll watch the cigarette sparks like evaporating fireflies, dizzy for a home in your discarded black blouse.
"I want to know you completely," I’ll whisper into every crevice of your body. We’ll make up constellations out of the freckles on our thighs, rich mythologies of ancient long-dead civilizations.
"Did you know I can juggle?" you’ll say, and I’ll say, "Show me."
Every other night will have been rehearsal for Friday 18 July — we had to be ready. Everything was pushing us imperceptibly toward this moment — if I hadn’t missed that train, if you hadn’t moved for the job, just imagine.
"I don’t want it to be tomorrow," you’ll say, a single tear escaping as you bitterly laugh at the futility of the sentiment. "I want it to be Friday 18 July forever."
And when the morning comes, our love, like bugs, will scatter in the light. We will dress ourselves while facing the wall, we will scramble for our phones, we will be strangers.
And we will realize that Friday 18 July, like every day in history before it, was a moment, a twenty-four-hour trick of the light, a thing that happened once and never again.
And that sad truth will just about swallow us whole.
Sorry for any inconvinience.
Please don’t feed the ego, drawing by Daniel Johnston
FRUIT SNACK ADDICT
Pseudo-Galenus, Anathomia, England 15th century.
London, Wellcome Library, MS.290, fol. 53v
Styles P - “Sawa”
Horoscope of Prince Iskandar, grandson of Tamerlane, the Turkman Mongol conqueror, by Imad al-Din Mahmud al-Kashi, from The Book of the Birth of Iskandar (ca. 1384) – Source: Wellcome Library, London.