When I was a graduate student, ants framed many of my household decisions, responding so quickly and vigorously to my summoning (the first time unintentionally) them with sticky rewards of my messy handling of watermelon on the table and the kitchen floor. Not all ants are sweet monsters, of course, but the sweet spill attracted those that are. Not that other than a sweet mess, there were no other food scraps, including coffee stains that were actually a design improvement for the vinyl flooring.
I admit to fear when I saw their thick invasion that could extend to me if I had any parts as sweet.
Though I love ants, and wrote in that loving state, a poem called Ant Farm, I still kill ads that gather around my kitchen sink, perhaps attracted to the grapefruit dishwashing liquid. I used to dream about being eaten by a group of Army Ants, my body is a forest somewhere, but definitely not buried. Perhaps stretched out on a wall of one of Rafael Gomez-Barros's fabulous depictions. Somewhere that ants (or other insects could definitely get me).
I am aware that the ground under my feet has been burial location for many living things now nameless.
Everything can have a chance to be food --that's great and so useful to the eaters!
Please Take a look at this in one of my other blogs.
