The great tragedy of the butterfly is that it is the universal symbol of transformation, yet we try to pin it to a board. We drain its color. We label its Latin name. We upload it to a server.
That is the human condition regarding Titli . index of titli
You are the open directory. Your heart is the /var/www/html folder. Every person who has loved you has performed a curl request on your soul. Every loss you have suffered is a 404 Not Found . Every triumph is a 200 OK . The great tragedy of the butterfly is that
You know the butterfly is there. You see it in the corner of your eye. You hear the flutter in your chest. It is listed in the index of every beautiful thing you have ever felt. We upload it to a server
Look closer at the terminal output. There is a hidden file. You can only see it if you use ls -a (show all).
Look at the directory listing again. Notice the link at the top ( ../ ). That is the past. That is the larval stage. That is the caterpillar you were before you knew what beauty or loss was.
"I'm sorry," the server says. "I have the file. It is right here in the index. But you do not have permission to see it."