He Might Get Burnt But He Is In The Game

There is a moth I remember from my childhood.

Every year, around the middle of May, it would arrive in our garden with great determination, drifting in and out among the petals of the pink lilies, appearing and disappearing. Its body, white as my morning milk, would rest between the flowers until it would be tricked by the light once again. Towards the end of its brief life, it would somehow find its way to the bathroom light, like it had put it there.

I'd Like to Think

Around it some would be worn out by age. Others would seem to be driven by a foolish curiosity. Stupid even. And then they would trap themselves until they would burn alive. What they leave behind would be lifeless bodies scavenged by the light and missing pieces in woolen winter clothes, where I like to think that they were happy and warm for a while. For years, I believed there was a strange mix of love and stupidity in them, a mix that drew them to the pale bathroom light, consuming every living cell of their body.

Lost

But the truth about them broke my heart far more than the story of a foolish love. The truth that they were lost. Research published in 2024 in Nature Communications revealed that insects are not actually drawn to light like the proverbial "moths to a flame." There isn't a sweetheart deal between them. Scientists now say that moths are not attracted to light at all. They are simply losing their sense of direction.

Bodies that evolved to navigate through the night by keeping their backs oriented toward the brightest part of the sky mistake a human-made light bulb for the sky itself. I find it difficult to unsee them; they are not like any other insects. They're not loud; they are not manic; they are weirdly calm for being lost, trapped and burning alive in a lightbulb. They fold their wings gently into the depths of sleep. Almost gone.