That is, if a fly’s brain is in its head. Lobsters do not lodge the center of their nervous system there if one is to think of a fly as an inconvenient lobster, arthropods all. I’ve been reading about the ways plants commu- nicate by chemicals, wondering if a tomato plant minds more if a chipmunk bites into its fruit or if I pick its ripe globes. A moth is trapped between the screen and closed window. If I had super hearing like a vampire, would I be bothered by its screaming? The world surrounds me with small mysteries. How ignorant I am. Or bigger ones. Does a tree suffer when it’s chopped down? Is earth weary of us who poison it? Is she calling even now to sister meteors? I go through my muddled life like a pebble pushed by currents I don’t acknowledge. I notice perhaps a hundredth of what swarms about me on every side. Yet if I could feel it all, hear every whisper or cry, notice all the faces in a crowded street, would I really be wiser?
