I could spin something slightly poetic and vaguely philosophical but I won’t. A butterfly seems no more than a moth in fancy clothes. We fear & loathe moths; why do we chase butterflies? Simply because they’re prettier?

This one wasn’t dead but presumably getting there since it only feebly flapped its wings. I swept it into to the hall (where there’s a window). It is still there. If it’s dead, it’ll be cleaned away tomorrow.

I shared my house with a butterfly for a day. I hope it was as nice a day for it as it was for me.