Sometimes caterpillars come with such amazing shapes and colors and spines and fur and toxins and appetites that I wonder why they even bother becoming butterflies. Why give up a life of carefree gluttony for flight and nectar and mating?

I think that is a question best answered by the poets among us. It's an answer a lot of our refuse-to-leave-the-nest youth (and not so young) don't want to hear.





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