Written by: Albert Ahearn

A microscopic arachnid tinier than a poppy seed spins diminutive filaments barely visible to the eye; a spiral silk lacework deathtrap for infinitesimal prey strung high between white cornered walls in a microcosmical world. Is its existence more trifling than mine that occupies more space? Perhaps not, in the scheme of things: my universe among the stars is imperceptibly smaller than this occupants’ in my room.