We are stumbling down the path, following a circle of flashlit ground; then we stop, and the light goes off, and we stand still in darkness, breathing in the silence, the cool air, the feeling of forest around. A UV light clicks on; it shines on a rock, at a crack splitting the stone neatly. Slowly, slowly, and we gasp. It glows bright turquoise. Scorpions have hidden there for the night, and they fluoresce angrily at us, unwelcome intrusion to their dark home. We see them as if through kaleidoscope, cubist, a claw here, a pincer there, only sections visible in the roaming light. They see differently from us; they exist differently from us. I wonder what colours make up their world of hunt and be hunted. Everything else is utterly still and utterly black. All that exists are these small creatures and their shapes.
Then the UV goes off. The flashlight comes on and, just like that, we return to our own wavelengths of existence.
somewhere up a tree 