As I sit down to breath I notice Housefly, still lying frozen in front of me. As I do, it occurs to me that, around Housefly, are White Pine needles, Oak and Maple leaves, and a variety of other reflections of death, decay, and transformation. I wonder why, when first I saw Housefly days ago frozen in the Snow, I didn't attend to these other dead things. I get curious as to why I was struck by a body and not a needle or a leaf. I then take in that the Snow upon which Housefly was originally lying has also transformed without my appreciation. I wonder what else my corpo-centric perspective is blinding me to?