Unlike humans insects have all kinds of colored contents. Yesterday on the highway, the main window of my car turned into a realistic copy of a Jackson Pollock. I was particulary intrigued by the – what appeared enormous – poison green spot right in front of me. Like Pollock’s paint, it had no idea where it was going when it hit the transparant canvas in front of me. As sad as it may be for a once so happy and ignorant insect, this death announced the breakthrough of spring. Sun, new life. Finally.