The red-domed lady bug makes its way around the edge of the washroom sink. Lower down, near the drain, another one shuffles. I find a piece of paper and lift the second one to a safer place on the window sill. Then I reach for my toothbrush and toothpaste and turn on the tap. What do these tiny bugs feel I wonder. Do they suffer like us if overwhelmed by a torrent of running water?
life throngs through the window seams