The ant crawls onto my hand. I watch it curiously, distracted by this sudden intruder and enjoying the slightly ticklish sensation as it strolls across my skin. Walking to the back of my hand, the ant pauses.
On a usual day, I would have flicked the ant away unthinkingly.
Standing on its two hind legs, the ant stretches out its front legs and starts to clean itself, with its antenna waving in the air. I guess it feels safe.
Such small pleasures are littered everywhere. Take for example, the smell of a flower, the coldness of ice cream as it slips down your throat, the ever-changing form of cigarette smoke, the warmth of sunshine, the coolness of a breeze and the tenderness of a touch. They're life's tiny joys that deserve more attention than they're getting.
And I flick the ant away, returning to my reading.
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