Once upon a time there was a baby butterfly. Tellement mignone! She opened one eye, and then the other, in a garden that smelt like salt, on a thursday morning. What is this body? How do I use it? What do I do? Maybe she thought. (There was something there, at the edge of her mind, slipping away like a running mouse.) The butterfly tried her wings a little, like you would try a new pair of shoes. These will be very useful to explore this new place, she might have said, if there was anyone to hear. (Too bad I was not there, my butterflish is excellent). And on she went. First she discovered a cage with some chickens.