I think I will show you a photo this morning, taken by my hubby.
Warning: If you don’t like bugs this may be a nightmare…
I happen to like bugs but this even gave me the heeby jeebys … that is until I became totally entranced by the clustering chaos.
I believe they are all dead.
About fifty years of insects in the attic.
You see my husband works in insurance restoration. He goes into places that have been flooded, or on fire, or have asbestos and mould in uncanny amounts, and he cleans it up. He likes to send me strange photos. Of mushrooms growing in carpet or a house being demolished piece by piece so as not to let the bad stuff get into the environment. He sends me these because I am interested in chaos and ruin. I think it must partly be a welsh thing. Growing up around abandoned dreams and stolen power in the form of ruined castles and churches. I like what these spaces say about our own state, a fleeting moment in which we scramble for order before returning to chaos. Like these bugs that had their way of life, their structured existence, before they were left to us as a tangled mass in an attic in Victoria.