I watched an ant today. It was crawling around on the side of the concrete stoop I was sitting on. It was alone, like I was, and aimlessly walking about. At least it certainly appeared to be aimlessly walking about, that is. It may have known full well where it was going, and been marching there with all the deliberateness of Caesar crossing the Rubicon, for all I know.
Yet it looked as if it was frantically searching for something, like someone on a beach, looking for their car keys in a panic as the sun went down. Maybe it was just trying to figure out where it was (much like myself), or trying to figure out how it got there or where it should go from here (also much like myself ). Or maybe it was looking for something to eat. But what does an ant eat? If it was, in fact, looking for food, it was a good deal more motivated to find it than I was at that moment. There was a deli right across the street from where I was sitting, for example, that, despite the fact I had not had a bite to eat since the night before, I had no desire to visit.
It crawled on to my seat where it eventually discovered my iPhone and, after briefly surveying its curved edges, climbed aboard. How smooth the glass face of that phone must have felt to its touch, I thought, compared to the craggy stone bench upon which we sat. As I watched it, I wondered what it was wondering, or if it had ever wondered anything at all. Perhaps this ant had scaled dozens of cell phones in its day, and been none too impressed with any of them.
It took no notice of me, of course, as I hovered over it, watching its every move inquisitively, like a God looming over its creation (or should that be "Its"?). I thought about killing it, and for no other reason than just because I could. Would it matter to anyone or anything in the universe if I did, after all, maybe even another ant somewhere, waiting for it to come home? Perhaps its mother, or its daughter, or maybe just a friend. All I knew was that if I did kill it, it would be of no consequence or concern to anyone in the whole world. Indeed, even I would have forgotten about it just seconds after I had finished murdering it.
It wandered off eventually, never realizing how close it had come to breathing its last breath for my mere midday amusement. Farewell my tiny friend, whose indifference to my existence endeared me to it all the more, for our paths will never cross again. After all, I will think no more about you when I abandon this stoop where we so briefly picnicked together, without a single bite of food to eat for either of us.
Then I looked up and saw the countless people mulling about like an army of penguins heading for a distant mouth of water somewhere, just so they could throw themselves in. And there they walked, as oblivious of me as I had been of them mere seconds before. And I wondered how close each of them, and indeed even I, was to breathing our last breath, without ever knowing it, much like that ant. Indeed, perhaps someone I watched walked by today is even now, already dead. And all for the amusement of a universe that had never thought of us before that moment, and upon our murder, would never shed a tear, or think of us again.
Who knows - perhaps next time I encounter an ant, I'll have some food for the both of us. Or perhaps I'll just murder you for intruding upon my leisure, and never think of you again.
Yet it looked as if it was frantically searching for something, like someone on a beach, looking for their car keys in a panic as the sun went down. Maybe it was just trying to figure out where it was (much like myself), or trying to figure out how it got there or where it should go from here (also much like myself ). Or maybe it was looking for something to eat. But what does an ant eat? If it was, in fact, looking for food, it was a good deal more motivated to find it than I was at that moment. There was a deli right across the street from where I was sitting, for example, that, despite the fact I had not had a bite to eat since the night before, I had no desire to visit.
It crawled on to my seat where it eventually discovered my iPhone and, after briefly surveying its curved edges, climbed aboard. How smooth the glass face of that phone must have felt to its touch, I thought, compared to the craggy stone bench upon which we sat. As I watched it, I wondered what it was wondering, or if it had ever wondered anything at all. Perhaps this ant had scaled dozens of cell phones in its day, and been none too impressed with any of them.
It took no notice of me, of course, as I hovered over it, watching its every move inquisitively, like a God looming over its creation (or should that be "Its"?). I thought about killing it, and for no other reason than just because I could. Would it matter to anyone or anything in the universe if I did, after all, maybe even another ant somewhere, waiting for it to come home? Perhaps its mother, or its daughter, or maybe just a friend. All I knew was that if I did kill it, it would be of no consequence or concern to anyone in the whole world. Indeed, even I would have forgotten about it just seconds after I had finished murdering it.
It wandered off eventually, never realizing how close it had come to breathing its last breath for my mere midday amusement. Farewell my tiny friend, whose indifference to my existence endeared me to it all the more, for our paths will never cross again. After all, I will think no more about you when I abandon this stoop where we so briefly picnicked together, without a single bite of food to eat for either of us.
Then I looked up and saw the countless people mulling about like an army of penguins heading for a distant mouth of water somewhere, just so they could throw themselves in. And there they walked, as oblivious of me as I had been of them mere seconds before. And I wondered how close each of them, and indeed even I, was to breathing our last breath, without ever knowing it, much like that ant. Indeed, perhaps someone I watched walked by today is even now, already dead. And all for the amusement of a universe that had never thought of us before that moment, and upon our murder, would never shed a tear, or think of us again.
Who knows - perhaps next time I encounter an ant, I'll have some food for the both of us. Or perhaps I'll just murder you for intruding upon my leisure, and never think of you again.
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