I remember a helpless bee, I put a handful of flour over it. The idea had been growing inside me for a long time and required serious preparations.

The tip of the white pyramid moved and collapsed, caved in and the abdomen emerged. Looking from the side, I could see clearly for a moment, that the matter was moving. On its own. The bee was just an invisible mover. I covered it again, but this time only a little. Just the thinnest shroud. I repeated it several times, until I stopped seeing the beauty in it. It disappeared. I was thinking that if the bee, after all that, is ashamed and weak, it would lose its sting. If she’s angry at me, she would sting me and die. However, the bee decided to fly away. She seemed so human to me at that point, and at the same time, she was a real work of art.