gaga blues.diary of imperfect life. now in prague.
In the space between the window panes in my bedroom there is a Prague ladybird lying on its back. All its tiny legs are pointing up in the air. It has passed away. It is lit by the icy January sun, lying there motionless. Indeed, it is a nice ladybird – even though being dead, it radiates some kind of modest serenity, it looks as if its bug apology is reaching (contacting?) me, saying how sorry it is to have yielded its minute ghost right between my window-panes. Its miniature legs are standing motionless in the air attracting my attention. It’s a frame taken from a slow film.