Thank you for liking the bugs. They’ve been here all along — and they’ve been waiting for someone like you.
Where someone else sees a pest, you see a pattern: the embroidery of a weevil’s snout, the geometry of a shield bug’s back, the tiny, furious grace of a jumping spider’s pause before it leaps. bugs liker
Here’s a short piece written for a “bugs liker” — someone who finds beauty, wonder, and value in the small, many-legged, often misunderstood creatures of the world. The Smallest Witnesses Thank you for liking the bugs
You know that “bug” is a loving lie — because you also love the not-quite-bugs: millipedes with their slow, synchronized wave of legs, springtails bouncing like commas made of rain, moth-fluff soft as dust come alive. Here’s a short piece written for a “bugs
While the world stomps and sprays, you offer your finger as a bridge. You whisper hello, little one to a creature most will never truly see.
And in return, they give you something rare: a reminder that small is not insignificant, that six legs (or eight, or many more) is just another way of dancing through the same broken, beautiful world.