As they fly, only briefly resting on leaves or fragile vegetal stalks, the dragonflies’ restlessness is almost carried over to the observer. Different from the serenity of butterflies and bees, and different to the caution felt next to other beings with chitin bodies and foamy wings.
Though a familiar presence, every time my camera lens reveals the intimacy of their design, the magic works anew, as if I’d just discovered these beings.
Seen only in short reposes, the architecture of their bodies is a masterful proof of immateriality. Pure energy, the dragonfly – outlines from the wand of the Great Conductor, one of many moments of inspiration.
Perhaps that is why entomologists resisted the temptation of a dull, what-you-see-is-what-you-get classification, otherwise a normal practice for reputable men of science. On the contrary, the two main species, the dragonflies and the damselflies were christened based on what is felt, on that restless magnetism I mentioned. The damsels, whose wings align with their thread-like bodies as they rest, seem to lighten everything they touch, enlivening the discretion of those truly daring. The “dragons”, whose wings lay horizontally upon their somewhat more real bodies, seem to involuntarily stab the air, masters of their fleeting resting ground.
Yes, there are researchers who believe.
They “do not crush the world’s corolla of wonders and do not kill,
with their mind,
the mysteries they meet
in flowers, eyes and lips…”
April 12, 2016
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