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  • "Yo pider! Thats a fine web."

    I told the orb-web-spider as I clambered up onto the kitchen sink at 11pm one night. My one leg in the sink, the other stretched across the large second storey window, and jammed against a wall.

    A day of frantic pider effort had resulted in a fine confection of delicate beauty. But deadly.

    "Pider! pider! pider!" exclaimed my two year old son William eagerly as he'd watched it feed, pouncing from the window corner, as he himself spidered up on a piece of lunchtime cheese. We watched the show every day for a week.

    And here we were eyes to eye, pider peering through his eight, me peering through only one. A close-up lens.

    Behind the pider the street light, thrown out-of-focus by the lens, created MY orb, ensnaring my image in a pool of diffusion.

    "Yo pider, do you see me! Do you see me?" I asked from two inches away.

    And if pider did, did pider wonder at my one giant eye. And wonder what it was seeing? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

    But as I discovered later, several of my neighbours did.
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