On the Wings of a Butterfly

This is a first, I am actually travel blogging. Does that make this a travel blog? A 'tralog'? Have I created a new genre of travel writing? "Excuse me, hello, I am a tralogger"? Does that work? 

Anyway, you may have guessed, but I am writing this post on the move. Specifically, I am on the train from Kuala Lumpur to Singapore. I am currently 'off the grid'. I have no wifi, I have no mobile signal. I'll upload this once I find wifi to hook up to in Singapore. But for now I am gliding along, like the butterfly I am naming this tralog post after. 

The butterfly is long gone, and if butterflies have the capacity to remember, it will have forgotten me by now. I saw my butterfly (I think I can claim it - I wasn't on a butterfly farm where butterfly ownership is more clearly defined, I was on Raya Island and the butterfly in question was soaring freely) (well, at least it was until I claimed it as my own just now) (I hope it doesn't suddenly feel the weight of my shackles upon its wings and crash down to the ground because that would ruin the whole reason for why I noticed this particular butterfly). 

Anyway, I will continue. This butterfly, my butterfly, soared. I have seen butterflies before, of course I have, but they have always been fluttering, always beating their wings frantically against the unrelenting downwards force of gravity. This butterfly (my butterfly) did the usual wing beating thing to gain height and then coasted on the air like a bird. It was incredible. I've never seen a butterfly coast. It wasn't an accident. My butterfly didn't accidentally forget to fly because it was busy deep in thought about its butterfly wife and butterfly (caterpillar?) children and butterfly job and butterfly mortgage. It purposely, consciously, stopped flying and soared for a prolonged period. Then after a while renewed the beating of his wings (I have decided my butterfly is a man butterfly. If I am wrong I shall apologise next time I see her) to gain new heights only to resume the soaring once more. 

It was pure serenity. Pure beauty. Pure nature. I felt freer just by witnessing its freedom.

Perhaps it was on butterfly holiday and taking a break from the nine-to-five wing beating rat race. "I'm on annual leave. I beat my wings for a living I'll be damned if I'm gonna beat them when I'm off the clock. All these people, expecting me to fly all the time. If they've got a problem with it they should stand on the shoulders of giants rather than coast on the wings of a butterfly".