moth / ćma! of all, only the little joys matter, surprise surprise, apart from catching mice which later commit suicide... nothing's more joyous than catching moths (ćmy) with your bare hands... ever so gently squeezing a moth into submission, without ever actually squashing it... and then... releasing it, into the night's abundant air of perfume; you'll only find gentler hands on *polyphemus... who's eye sees all but day, and his hands, see all but night.