To Be Taught, If Fortunate

by Becky Chambers

difficult to assign value to discovery when you haven’t sorted out the parameters of reality yet.

A moth was a caterpillar, once, but it no longer is a caterpillar. It cannot break itself back down, cannot metamorphose in reverse. To try to eat leaves again would mean starvation. Crawling back into the husk would provide no shelter. It is a paradox – the impossibility of reclaiming that which lies behind, housed within a form comprised entirely of the repurposed pieces of that same past. We exist where we begin, yet to remain there is death. But I’m not a moth. I’m human.

a home can only exist in a moment. Something both found and made. Always temporary, in the grand scheme of things, but vital all the same.