The Moth and the Butterfly

I was walking towards my scooty the other day to go to college when I saw a moth sitting on the window swaying its wings so slowly as if they might fall off. Of course, the sight was just a passing glance. I had college to go to. The next day, again, as I walked down the stairs towards my scooty, my eyes automatically seemed to look for the swaying swings and I found them. But it was a butterfly this time. Almost as a reflex to this change, my eyes looked down to find a pair of unmoving wings. The moth was dead. As I continued to walk, I turned back to look at the butterfly that now took its place trying to sway its wings just as slowly as the moth as if to commemorate its demise. I turned forward with a surprising sense of sympathy for a moth that taught me a single day’s value. My life’s value.

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