Zoo and the travelling ants

The ants, one follows another, hundreds or thousands of them heading somewhere, forming an uneven dotted line on the wall; like a convoy traveling in Sahara desert. I see them crawling about, carrying breadcrumbs, tiny food bits, and insects’ remnant, each of the six-legged step they make, edge a millimeter nearer to their home, from one side of the cracked white wall to another. Some ants are lost, but manage to find their way back to the line.

I have been watching them for a whole afternoon; my legs feel sore for squatting too long. An ant is lost from the convoy, it is too far from the line – from my satellite view. Out to search for its freedom but it also might end up dying alone.

“Pap said there is no zoo in our place” a voice comes from behind, a disappointed sort of tone it sounds. I turn my head back and look up, still squatting. I squints my eyes and I can only see an over-exposed shadow under the glaring sun. The girl who is three years older than me, standing there with legs slightly apart, both hands on waist, her shoulder length hair swayed a bit as the gentle wind brushes through.

I turn back and look at the ants again. The lost ant never gets back to the line. What is so fascinating about the zoo after all?

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