Transverse Orientation

CREATIVE NIGHT WRITING

Blinded by the light, the moth draws ellipses. One after another, ellipses amount to a
dance of obsession around a monument of worship – the only remaining working
lightbulb on my balcony ceiling. After a while, I lose sight of its flickering body in the
swarm of differently winged fellow addicts to light. Unable to escape the artificial
stimuli, the light infected bodies give in to positive phototaxis – a fatal attraction to
light. I do not see it, but I hear it; a sibilant blurt of electric buzz is usually followed by a
deep dive to the wooden floor. I return my sight to the moth. It is still healthy and
seemingly happy to lapse the light for an eternity. Do moths perceive time differently
from humans, I wonder? They must do if they live shorter, but why waste time circling
an artificial light when one lives to enjoy the night? As my thoughts wonder so do the
moth’s. Suddenly, no longer spell bound, it breaks away from the lightbulb and leaves
my balcony to greet the moonlight. In my mind I wave it goodbye and rest my sore eyes
from observing the flies in the cool white light. Although I cannot see, the image of the
lightbulb is still with me. Accompanied by blooming speckles of colour the figment of
imagination is foregrounded in the dark. I take the time to adjust to complete darkness
and watch the image fade.

Emperor Moth by Adam Gor for butterfly-conservation.org

I can hear the wind rustle the pages of my notebook and car tires screeching in the
distance. I tilt my head back and fill my lungs with air. I hold it in for longer than I
normally would, testing my limit, and breathe out slowly. I then open my eyes.
Squinting at the light finding its way back into my vision, I choose to look down. My
arms on my knees look sickly from the artificially yellow light. Tired and unimpressed I
think about standing up and going inside. I pick myself up from the chair, take two
steps towards the door and stop in my tracks. Light off, I remember. As I place my
finger on the switch and turn around to see the light go out, I observe the flies. Grown in
size, the swarm is casting shadows shows on the wall. I switch the light off and, in an
instant, turn it back on again. The smaller few react to my mischief and having pulled
away are darting at a distance from the lightbulb. It dawns on me that I am using
technology to artificially discipline and ultimately fail nature. Curious to test the limits
of such control I flick the switch back and forth. Alerted by the flickering, I am guessing,
the moth comes back. It may not be the same one, but I consider its wings beautiful, so I
stop my experiment and turn the light off. I wait at the door until the buzz softens and
leave when it disappears. Knowledgeable but happily ignorant, I, lord of the flies, go to
sleep.

REFERENCES

Gor, A., 2021. Emperor Moth. [online] Butterfly-conservation.org. Available at: <https://butterfly-
conservation.org/moths/emperor-moth> [Accessed 18 December 2021].