A few years ago I went to the botanical garden of my city and I saw this beautiful butterfly.
I took this picture, I sat on a bench and start to read.
After at least ten minutes, the butterfly came to me and laid on the pages of my book.
She died there.
I felt so emotional in that moment: she just came to me, to die.
I took her with me in a matches box. There's where she's have been since then.
This makes me so emotional. So weird and empty.
