(no subject)
my popou used to be able to catch butterflies in his hands as they flew by. he used to catch flies too. he would shake them up and toss them on the table and we would watch them swerve around all dizzy, and then finally catch their balance and fly off again. i would always try to catch butterflies like him. my hands were never fast enough, my eyes never accurate enough. my senses werent sufficiently matured to be able to catch something that i wanted so badly. the butterfly, unknowingly, would keep flying, floating up and down and in every direction not knowing that i was running and jumping, trying to keep up with it just so i could hold it for a few moments before i would set it free. if it only knew how much i wanted it then maybe it would have landed on my finger and that alone would have satisfied my needs. it would have never understood, though. butterflies are passive aggressive and put their problems on the shelf, but theyre beautiful.