Yes that’s it’s official name: A kaleidoscope.
Also: A swarm. A rabble. A flutter.
For the past two weeks John and I have been walking into clouds of butterflies, all but hidden in the duff of the dirt or cobbled roads, only to be set aloft with our passage.
They dance amongst the flowers.
Some even clatter, as if with castanets, as they flutter in pairs past me in my hammock.
John jokes that we should take some psychedelic drugs and just sit for hours and observe them.
I laugh back that no external drugs are needed. They are their own swarm of kaleidoscopic rabble all a flutter!