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Summary
You are the type of person to admire a silk moth, metamorphosed without a mouth. You might mention something metaphorical about it as it beat its wings inside of a glass jar, purpose unfulfilled. What purpose does a silk moth have? Moths metamorphosize, fuck, lay eggs, and die. You probably caught and killed and pinned them as a child, carefully arranging them on the pinning board as they dried so that the wings remained perfectly presented, open as if they were about to take flight. I imagine you had a whole collection, once. It was good practice for the man you are now.