Had I not looked up randomly when opening the door from my bathroom, the green grasshopper that has decided to share a room with me would have gone unseen by my self-induced gloom stricken eyes. Having already stopped to photograph a dead pigeon this afternoon, the sight of a one legged grass hopper with look-alike leaf wings should not have phased me much. But somehow the pause to read the air lasted a few seconds longer than I'd normally allow; perhaps credited to the mind-altering saturation of the flowers I had smoked earlier, or the rut I'd been slinging muddy thoughts around in for the past week after I realized I'd slid into them on a joyride to my own mental hell.
Either way I found myself struck by the moment, more-so than the emo glasses my perception had stuck on my face. Fucking badass grass hopper. I have two legs. Grass hopper has one.
It crawls closer to me as I project pink light, and feel the natsukashi sensation of empathy.
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