Today I woke up inspired by the butterfly on my window and wrote... I've always had a secret connection with butterflies, as if we shared the same silent language. An ancient understanding that metamorphosis exacts its price—sometimes in joy, sometimes in agony. There's an inevitable moment of withdrawal, a call inward, where everything becomes dark, cramped, and unknown. There begins the deepest dive: into what is hidden, into what is not yet formless. And then, in silence, beauty begins to be born from within. A timid, almost imperceptible light that one day opens and shines on the wings. But there's a delicate irony in this destiny: the butterfly was denied the privilege of contemplating its own beauty. After so much pain, so much dissolution to be reborn, it is only allowed to move forward—always looking ahead, never seeing the miracle it carries. And isn't it the same with human beings? Life transforms us as we walk. We rarely see our own wings opening. Growing up requires continuing, even without fully understanding what we are becoming. Perhaps that's why butterflies are so familiar to me: because, like them, we learn to fly without ever fully seeing the beauty of our own metamorphosis. ☝️Text by Babe Susie, any copying or reproduction is plagiarism. ⚠️