This afternoon, two black butterflies chased each other at the front yard of the house. They caught my eye and I had to stop what I'm doing to watch them awhile. I really had to forget everything else I was doing or about to do, wherever I had to do it or for whom, and watch the butterflies, so that, in a way, I was sorta chasing them, in a way I was kinda joining in with their little game. They didn't seem to notice me though, they didn't even try to avoid me, they flew over my face like they're sure I wasn't gonna try to eat them. I myself wasn't sure if I was not gonna try to eat them.
Anyway, after a while, I started to wonder how come those butterflies got so playful like that. They looked rebellious and wayward somehow. Some kind of rule-breakers sort of. Because all I seem to see butterflies do most of the time was to hop from one flower to another, or hang under your window and die, but these two didn't seem to care about any of those things at all. There were no flowers whatsoever in this front yard, only dead rocks and dead stones and dead or dying snails. These two didn't seem to be mating either. They weren't on each other or something. Really, they were just flying in a sort of a double hilux pattern, like two lines intersecting and looping again and again and again in the air, for how many times they want, for how many times they can.
I couldn't take my eyes off them. My head moved about the whole place, trying not to lose sight and miss a single step of their aerial tango. They looked so happy. And free. And careless. Irresponsible. Weightless. And it felt awful somehow. I felt so distinguished from them. And when they shot up to the sky and disappeared into the sunset, I felt as though I was left hanging. It hurt sorta but I was smiling. I was smiling. Then I had to immediately regain my senses and struggled to remember what I was supposed to be doing. What was it? It was something important.
Oh, right. I was supposed to end global hunger and promote world peace.
