The other morning I was taking my dry shirts in from the overhang porch where our clothes dry on hanging bamboo and PVC poles. Tired and slightly hurried, I grabbed the hangers and wafted them into the dim apartment. As I turned from the corridor, I noticed something interesting on my shirt. A closer look in the light revealed a perfectly still moth. Being diseased with shutterbug, I had to get a photo of it. I hung the shirts on my doorknob, grabbed the camera, and realized that my light was terrible. I wasn’t sure if the moth was dead or alive, considering how it hadn’t budged down the hall to my room.

I took it outside to the sunlit open window of the porch, and snapped a photo. Then I turned the shirt to the side to get a better profile view of its yellow and black speckled body. With a flick of its wings, it was off, fluttering into the blue.

I guess it was just deep in a dream of… What do moths eat? Oh, right… shirts.

I found this moth clinging to the outer wall of this antique store that is no longer operating, but has its windows and doors open for people to peer in and have a taste of nostalgia for the old wares inside.

I have no idea what kind of moth it is, and I think it was dead or in a deep abiding slumber, as it didn’t flinch when I moved aside some flat wooden postcards to snap its picture.

We were wandering this little mountain town where we hopped off the mountain train, feasted, and wandered the streets listening to little clay bird flutes, and trying the “tomato tree” fruit which was more akin to passionfruit (except red instead of yellow inside), and rather sour.