1
On a bright summer day, the world around me seemed to glow with vivid colors. I was just a crawling toddler, exploring the wooden floor of my home when I noticed an insect with wings under a chair. It appeared to be struggling, perhaps eating or even dying. Intrigued, I crawled towards it slowly, taking in every detail of the strange creature. It was spinning its wings and crawling, but couldn't seem to fly. I found it incredibly appealing, even though I didn't quite understand what I was seeing.
I crawled for what felt like ages until I finally reached out and took hold of the insect. The pain was sudden and sharp, hitting my whole arm. I couldn't help but scream, but I refused to let go of the insect, squeezing it even harder. I could feel the vibrations of its wings against my hand, and my hand grew hot from the movement. It was a sensation I had never felt before, and I was fascinated, even though it also burned me.
Looking back, I realize that this was my very first memory when I was only about 12 months old. The insect turned out to be a wasp, and though it caused me pain, it also sparked my curiosity and wonder about the natural world.
2
I spent a lot of time with ants, and upon reflection, I realized they were my best friends, my domesticated animals, and perhaps kindred spirits. I was particularly fascinated by the red ants and the forest ants that sprayed acid from their rear orifices.
During the summer, the red ants lived with me constantly. I played with them outside, and in winter, I created a jar with soil and found a queen who established her own anthill in my care. The bites of red ants were quite painful, leaving a small welt resembling a mosquito bite, but it didn't itch; rather, it stung, reminiscent of a burn. I later learned that it was due to the ant's acidic venom. For two years, I would purposefully provoke a single ant every day to bite me, usually using my hands, although I sometimes experimented with other body parts. After the first year, it seemed as though my body had grown somewhat desensitized to pain, so I decided to use at least two ants to continue my experiment. It was a strange idea of transformation from human to ant, as I believed it would bring me closer to them. Overall, it was a peculiar endeavor, this metamorphosis from man to ant, in my quest to become closer to them and feel them, better.
3
I always had a complicated relationship with butterflies. I remember once a butterfly landed on my face and started walking on it, scratching and tickling my skin. It was one of the most unpleasant memories of my life. I wanted to immediately brush it off from the other side, as such occurrences were rare. But I decided to wait and try to observe it or catch it at least. Butterflies seemed fragile to me, with wings that could easily break, leaving a powdery residue on my hands, like blood... a clue. I used a net or a jar and then tried not to touch them with my hands. Nevertheless, I was always fascinated by building homes for butterflies.
I constructed small houses out of the sand and later adorned them with various colors, leaves, and beautiful stones. It was always an incredibly engaging process as if other butterflies flying around were observing and envying the chosen one that I caught, who would soon have her own home - made of sand and flowers. Sometimes, building the house took a long time, several hours, and it became a grand palace. Then, it was time to place the captured butterfly inside and close the sand door. Later, I realized that it wasn't a house, but a grave.
During my summers at my godmother's countryside house, I found solace in a hidden spot beneath the house. The house stood on low stilts, and I discovered a narrow triangular nook next to the stairs where I could hide. It was dark and cold there, with the musty scent of old wood permeating the air.
In my hiding place, I was not alone. A family of spiders had made their home there as well. The largest among them was a yellow spider, about the size of my eye, whose web hung just an arm's length away from me. At first, the sight of the spider frightened me, but I soon realized that it was more afraid of me than I was of it. So, I tried to stay still and not disturb its web, which served as a barrier between us.
I started bringing insects to the spiders as a way to establish a truce with them. Most often, I brought grasshoppers, watching with curiosity as the spider deftly wrapped them in its web and left them behind. It was a strange sight to see an insect that I had brought into the dark recesses of my hiding spot become ensnared in the spider's web, struggling futilely to break free. The spider, seemingly blind to the grasshopper's movements, would approach slowly, its prey unable to escape. I witnessed some insects stop moving altogether, while the spider continued its approach, seemingly unaware of their fate. It was a mesmerizing dance of life and death, played out in the confined space beneath the house.
I remember one grasshopper in particular. It was a vibrant pink in color and quite large. I worried if the spider would be able to handle such formidable prey. As the spider began to wrap the grasshopper in its web, the grasshopper used its legs to jump in a desperate attempt to break free. But with each movement, its struggles grew weaker, and its hopping slowed until it ceased altogether. Meanwhile, the spider bit the grasshopper, injecting it with venom that slowly paralyzed its legs. The grasshopper's mouth and jaws opened and closed slowly as if it was swallowing air, while its movements dwindled to a few small twitches. The spider continued to wrap the grasshopper's head, creating a macabre mask, while the grasshopper's legs and feet continued to move in a strange, jerky manner as if trying to come together but failing. It was a haunting spectacle, a grotesque ballet of life and death unfolding in front of my eyes.
In that hidden place beneath my godmother's countryside house, I found myself drawn to this grim cycle of nature. It was a strange and unsettling experience, yet it also served as a distraction from the loneliness and conflicts I faced during those summers. In the darkness, with only the spiders as my companions, I learned to observe the intricate dance of life and death.
My godmother lost her son when he was 17, he was hit by a car here, 2 min away from the summer house, and it happened on 18 June... the day I was born. It was a strange and haunting parallel, the fact that I was born on the same day her son tragically lost his life, just a stone's throw away from the very house where I sought solace. My godmother's belief that I was a beacon of reconciliation for her son's memory only deepened my sense of isolation. I felt the weight of this expectation, the unspoken pressure to fill the void left by her son's absence. But try as I might, I couldn't shake the sense of loneliness that clung to me like a shroud.
4
I spent a lot of time with ants, and upon reflection, I realized they were my best friends, my domesticated animals, and perhaps kindred spirits. I was particularly fascinated by the red ants and the forest ants that sprayed acid from their rear orifices.
During the summer, the red ants lived with me constantly. I played with them outside, and in winter, I created a jar with soil and found a queen who established her own anthill in my care. The bites of red ants were quite painful, leaving a small welt resembling a mosquito bite, but it didn't itch; rather, it stung, reminiscent of a burn. I later learned that it was due to the ant's acidic venom.
For two years, I would purposefully provoke a single ant every day to bite me, usually using my hands, although I sometimes experimented with other body parts. After the first year, it seemed as though my body had grown somewhat desensitized to pain, so I decided to use at least two ants to continue my experiment. It was a strange idea of transformation from human to ant, as I believed it would bring me closer to them. Overall, it was a peculiar endeavor, this metamorphosis from man to ant, in my quest to become closer to them and feel them, better.
5
The house was quite old, and in order to reinforce its edges, they covered them with iron sheets. After a couple of years, the sheets rusted and turned dark in color, almost matching the dark wood of the house itself. In one corner of this iron covering, ants had made their home. They were most active early in the morning and in the evening, but sometimes you could see them during the day, especially if they had found some prey and were trying to haul it inside.
One day, I decided to help them and caught a grasshopper to feed them. I threw the grasshopper next to them on the hot iron sheet. It was a scorching day, and without knowing it, I had placed the grasshopper on the blistering metal. The ants didn't seem to notice it, as their legs were very thin and barely touched the metal. But the grasshopper began to roast alive. It writhed in all directions, and I had never seen anything like it before. These movements were completely unnatural for grasshoppers; its entire body wriggled as if it had no exoskeleton or the exoskeleton was completely soft. Gradually, its head started tilting downwards, and its neck stretched out. It resembled a hunchbacked person trying to imitate the position of an embryo. Its neck began to bend so sharply that you could see the white layer of connective tissue that connects its exoskeleton. I had never seen anything like this before, and it scared me a lot. It was like a person stretching their neck with sheer force of will, gradually tearing their skin apart, and the flesh and spine coming out. This was what was happening to the grasshopper; its head was gradually separating from its body, and through the white flesh, you could see its spine trying to break through. Finally, the spine started coming out and moving in different directions. I quickly realized that it wasn't a spine, but a worm that was living inside the grasshopper and devouring its insides. The grasshopper was like a shell, completely filled with the worm, which had eaten all its insides and partly controlled it. It wasn't a grasshopper anymore; it was just a hollow shell. This white worm turned out to be a parasitic larva, which burrows into other insects, lays its eggs inside them, and when they are ready, the larva hatches devours its host from the inside, and then breaks out. It was a truly horrifying sight. The cruel and merciless nature of the insect world was laid bare before my eyes, and it left me shaken to the core. It was a stark reminder of the brutal survival strategies that exist in the natural world, even in the smallest of creatures. It was a stark reminder of the fragility and complexity of life, and how even the most innocent-looking creatures can hide unimaginable horrors within.
6
The female praying mantis, after decapitating the male before mating, seeks to remove inhibitory brain centers from him, thereby achieving longer spasmodic movements during copulation. Thus, in the end, the female kills the male, obeying the principle of pleasure, and even begins to consume his body during copulation.
The female of the white-lined sphinx moth tears open the abdomen of her partner and, extracting the spermatophore from there, devours it to become pregnant.
During pregnancy, in the first period of its existence, the embryo parasitizes the body of the mother, feeding on her substances, and after birth, it continues to suck its food from the woman's body.
One of the phobias that occur in heterosexual men is the fear of a toothed vagina capable of biting off a penetrating male organ.
Mr. Paul-Émile Victor, who led the French mission to Greenland in 1934-1935, also reported stories of women devouring men. However, in these stories, this motif is not as distinct as in the story of Nukarpyargekake cited below. Compare this with Sade's account of the place where Lady Clerville pushes into her vagina the heart just torn from the chest of a young man, and lying on his corpse, sucks the lips of her victim while masturbating with his still warm member.
It is said, for example, that during the siege of Naples by Charles VIII of Spain, under the pretext of getting rid of excess mouths, the most beautiful prostitutes were released from the city, infecting them with syphilis, and thus the entire French army soon became infected as well.
As Mandeville reports, on a certain island, the bridegroom finds a substitute for himself for the first night for money, as it is believed that women have snakes living in their wombs that kill the one who touches them first.
The praying mantis, transformed into an antelope, pretends to be dead in the hope that the children will believe its disguise and will start cutting it with stone knives. They actually start doing this; but when they are already carrying away the dismembered parts of the carcass, the animal, having deceived them, suddenly speaks, gathers its members, and pursues the children, waving its arms like a man. Finally, the parents explain to the children that the pseudo-antelope was actually an old praying mantis that pretended to be dead to deceive them.
Indeed, in insects, especially butterflies, the male dies immediately after fertilizing the female, ensuring the reproduction of the species.