Fly

You’ve been stranded on Mars for thirty days, with no prospect of rescue. You've never felt more alone.

Now imagine how you would feel if you found a fly buzzing around in your ship. You'd be ecstatic. It would be your nearest and dearest cousin on a planet otherwise devoid of life. You'd probably talk to it, name it, feed it. If it died, you'd be heartbroken.

Yet on Earth, spoilt by the abundance of life all around us, we swat flies: snuffing out their lives for no better reason than that we let them annoy us.

We're weird like that.