I caught the fly between my finger and thumb and immediately wished that someone had been looking, for I do not often move so deftly. I watched it wriggle, between my finger and thumb, and hoped it wasn’t injured, for although it had annoyed me, buzzing at the window, I am the sort of person who checks that no animals were harmed in the making of this film. I took the fly, pressed lightly between my finger and thumb, and put it on the table, where I watched it crawl about, then flick it’s wings and, with a start, climb back into the air, erratic and spasmodic, like a riddled fighter jet. Briefly orbiting the light-bulb, it headed for the window, which I opened and stood, silly, as it slowly wandered past. Out into the big wide world of well-being and waste. Then, turning back into myself, I found some peace at last.