Ariadne’s thread

Last night while the household slept and heat lightning periodically illuminated the black sky, Ariadne set herself to work diligently in the kitchen.

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When I returned home from my morning walk, I encountered her shuttling up and down a single silver thread suspended from the corner of the kitchen cupboard, descending into the depths of a mixing bowl to check on the insect which she had carefully anesthetized and dressed with the expertise of a surgeon.

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In the blue and white bowl a miniature replica of this spinner struggled to ascend the parabolic ceramic curve, periodically tumbling back down the slippery slope to the bottom, only to redirect his efforts once again in fine Sisyphean fashion.

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