Beetles covered every surface.

The forest floor seemed to move, sensuously. The beetles undulating. The filtered light reflecting dully from their greeny black backs.

The strange clicky-tappy noise as their legs scrabbled over the shells of their peers formed a solid sound cloud.

There was order, of a kind, as the strong climbed over the weak to access the carcass. They would feed and then return against the tide.

I had been watching for days. Trying to capture the sounds and smells as well as the scene. Discarded canvases testament to my lack of success.

I push a colour stained hand across the sweat on my face and flick it to the side. But I can’t stop. Soon the macaw’s body would be consumed and the beetles would move on.

Before then I wanted just one perfect picture. The light is oily on their backs. I coat my fingers once more and swirl oils onto a new canvas. Trying… trying to capture the sense of movement…frantic at an individual level but viscous when viewed as a whole…