Man may be considered as a superior species of animal that produces philosophies and poems in about the same way a silkworm produces their cocoons and bees their hives. Hippolyte Taine

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Mimbi watched the silkworm squirm on her outstretched palm. How could such an ugly white caterpillar make the most beautiful thread she had ever seen? She had seen the cocoons after they had been boiled. There was up to 900 meters of silk thread in each one, white and translucent. She knew the fate of this little wriggling thing on her palm should be to become a moth, but most likely it would get boiled in it’s cocoon and then eaten, while it’s fine thread was stolen away to make a garment. She sighed and tipped it back into the crate with it’s brethren. There were so many of them she felt sure she could hear them munching their white mulberry leaves, an army of mandibles laying waste to the layer of green beneath them.

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