At first glance she'd appeared lifeless, the gentle slipstream of my breath having no more effect than to trampoline spider and web. Yet she remained very much alive. I noted her movements through the passing days, observing her awkwardly positioned slumber. See how she curls into sleep I said, pointing her out to my daughter.
But this morning, she's gone. Of her trifling web, there's no trace.
Had she offended? Been deemed an unwanted presence, tempting shredding of weaver and web?
Absence.
Ralph Wessman
Hobart, Australia
10.51 a.m. Wednesday 29th August, 2001
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