At precisely which moment does a caterpillar become a butterfly? We all know it goes behind the veil as a sluggish thing, reappearing graceful and transformed; but what about those secret, messy moments taking place inside the chrysalis?
Does the winged creature emerge with a memory of chewing leaves? Does it live the rest of its life with a craving that cannot be fulfilled with its new, nectar-sipping tongue? Or is she embarrassed when she looks back on her past; scarcely recognizing the shape of her being which crawled around, completely unaware of how far the wind could carry her?
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