When darkness comes, the moths gather, and take off from the increasingly dry forest floor. Something makes them go. Like a tickle, it´s impossible to resist. The moths travel silently, like brown snowflakes over the earth. They use the angle of the light from thousands of stars to navigate. No other light brings them out of direction. Not yet. Dawn. The moths hear the sound of the eucalyptus forest, with the dark, cool caves. The abandoned bower is on the forest floor, the flowers have withered, the wind has taken away the snail shell, but the sticks are still there. The moths have...