and so there's this little ladybug [here in Nederland they call it 'goddeinstbeestje, or god's beloved little animal], anyway there's this little ladybug in my sink. she can't fly; though she doesn't seem to be injured and maybe is just too young to fly yet, and she won't walk onto the piece of paper i try to catch her in. she walks to the top of the sink and then, like Sisyphus or robert the bruce or whoever it is that keeps falling back and climbing up again, she falls to the holes in the bottom of the sink and then climbs back. she doesn't push a rock, she carries her own giant weight on her back. and one way or another she will soon die. and should i, afraid to death of death, hurry her out of mortality? and that's why i didn't brush my teeth this morning and why, yes, i wouldn't hurt a fly.