orb_weaver ovenbird When a scuttling thing with enough ticklish toes to send a hundred piggies on one way trips to the abattoir finds itself tangled in an orb weaver’s web, it’s the spider I root for. I watch her dart to her victim’s side, quick and attentive as a paramedic: Let me wrap that wound in silk, let me immobilize that fracture, let me swaddle your twitching body until you have nothing to do but sleep. Once I might have ached for the life waiting to have its insides liquified. But not today. Today I watch the smallest hunter anaesthesize her prey and marvel at the way she never apologizes for the intensity of her need. 260831 what's it to you? who go blather from