Written 6th July in Buffalo, Alberta
As I sit here enveloped in shitty little flies,
flies which exist only in a five meter radius around Kristian and I,
I ask myself: “what the fuck do they want?”
Mosquitoes are annoying in their own invasive, incessant, itchy way. But at least they have purpose.
These flies do nothing but buzz around your face.
The layer of them on the outside of my tent this morning didn’t bode well for the rest of the day, and sure enough they all mobilised as soon as I stepped out, ready to fly around my face and obscure my vision and test my patience.
During breakfast they continued buzzing faceward. They have no interest in food, except the three or four who landed on my plate for a rest from face buzzing, and drowned in a thin layer of oil.
I would love to understand their goals and motivations,
mainly so I can interfere and play havoc with them.