08 July 2003 - 10:45 a.m. A bird with an insect in its mouth flies through the tiniest space between the branches of a pine tree. A frog notices it is being watched, sits still. An impossibly large bumble-bee collides with a window and is redirected like a cue-ball, leaving no evidence of its mishap, except for a slight dusting of pollen, and a sound like a thumbtack falling on a tile floor. The sky repaints itself every second, always. I open my eyes, and I am transparent, stupid and small inside the beauty. (1) Comments?