A world apart

A small fly accompanied me for much of my journey home from Croatia. I suspect all the way from Italy, but certainly from France. I finally managed to get it to go out an open window while traveling to my Dad’s place in Dorset.

I don’t know what the French or Italian equivalents of “Where the fuck am I?” are, but since saying farewell to my fly friend I have found myself pondering how flies orientate themselves, at what scale, and what the possible consequences of such a drastic displacement might be.