Sunday, April 3, 2016
April 3, 2016
Elliot's butterflies from Ecuador. When I was a child, I would race to Uncle Elliot's den as soon as I'd enter the house. In the afternoon, the sun would hit the centre butterfly, and I knew there was NOTHING bluer in the world. The iridescent blue has long faded. His antennae sit at the botto of the glass box Metal fantasy beetles from Mexico. Paper bugs from Thailand. I remember hiding these around the kitchen. Bye bye.