We finally learned its name, but that didn’t make it less eerie. Case-bearing moth larva: a fragile architect dragging its own lint-and-dust shelter across the unnoticed edges of our lives. It hadn’t invaded our space so much as revealed it—showing us how much life exists in the margins we never bother to see. The bathroom, once just a place of routines and reflections, became a reminder that our version of “empty” is an illusion.
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