There is a type of butterflies we call in French éphémères (ephemerals). I still remember the fascination their name exerted on me as a child. Some erudite would say “this is an ephemeral, they only live one day.” And child-me would be very sad for the little butterfly. After all, what can you do in one day?

Years later, I am thinking about ephemerals again. The difference used to be so clear, between a decade and an hour.

Suddenly I am 28. Happy birthday, Anna Traussnig.