Morpho

I would like to think of myself as a manly man.  No over-bearing machismo, no great bravado, but an honest man-hood.  So it is with some trepidation that I admit to this:  I like butterflies.  They are resplendent creatures, thriving in their brash colors where their cousins scrape by in drabness.  Of these, the iridescent varieties hold a dear place, if only for their attainment of colors in the absolute:  especially the greens, surpassing all foliage, and the blues, to which even bright skies may seem pale.

In wandering the Carnegie Museum of Natural History, one may come across an otherwise unremarkable atrium, empty as it is of puzzling artworks or the stolen faces of temples and cathedrals, but for a grid of pinned insects on one wall.  Out from between bright yellow, deep black, delicate white, and warm orange, there shone iridescent blue and green.

And most striking of these was the blue.

This is deep blue.  This is true blue.  This is blue at the atomic level.  This is a blue which, as the viewing angle changes, goes through its spectrum and so summarizes the essential quality of "blue".

It seems natural to modify the shape of their wings to become the lapels, cuffs, and pockets of a coat, and even to replicate the scalloped edges of the wing on the edges of the coat itself.  Hopefully, the brightness of these details would make for something beautiful, rather than gaudy.

Lately, I have taught myself a new trick, as well:  the tying of a bow tie.  For once, it was something I learned overnight, with little practice, perhaps thanks to an excellent tutorial I found.  The shape of a bow tie, and its function as an accessory, makes it an excellent candidate for becoming a butterfly, as well.