Infernal Gulliver 6. Infernal Gulliver The rainwater tank was full to overflowing and the drowned moth lay on the surface of the water, pitifully dead, its outspread wings semi-transparent as if they had already begun to disintegrate. I paused, captivated by the beauty and fragility of the insect, and, dipping a finger gently under it, lifted it out so as to examine more closely the intricacy of its wing pattern. It adhered damply to my finger, totally inert, and yet after only a moment I sensed the faintest tremor of life, so vague that I was not sure at first whether the tremor emanated from the moth or from my own skin. With a kind of doubting surprise I held out my hand, letting the warm sun shine directly on to it and though there was not the smallest movement discernible to my eye again there passed between the moth and my finger a perceptible thrilling of life. I watched intently, still trying to detect some movement and at length was rewarded by a tiny quivering of the wings; a sporadic quivering which grew momently into a tentative fluttering though the moth was still anchored to my finger by its wet body.
