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Painting and Story by Lehan Winifred Ramsay

When the ant falls from his Ant world, that world rolls down after him. It has to. How can an ant still experience his world from so far away? He’s looking around him when beside him it drops and lies quietly on the ground, catching its breath. Now it’s a small world. A humiliated, humbled world, vastly reduced so that now he can see it. It doesn’t have to explode in some fantastic media-driven inferno, though that happens to some ants. It can just – fall from a low height, thud onto the ground, bounce a little, and then lie there, crumbling a bit at the edges. Now the ant knows the graying long-in-the-tooth truth. His world is not so hot. Didn’t hold up, and when it went the sun didn’t stop shining, didn’t take any notice at all. Now he’s gonna have to carry it. Knowing that it isn’t THE world, but only his. Ant World. But how interesting it is. He looks up at the sky, and it’s as if his eyes have turned to prisms, there are worlds everywhere. One world for every ant. All a bit similar, all a bit different. Then his eyes uncross and they’re gone. He looks around to see if he still has the correct number of legs.