So here's kind an out-of-place post for an out-of-place experience: going to a butterfly house with an odd assortment of people I was familiar and unfamiliar with, in some frozen spring month in St. Petersburg. The heat and humidity and stuffiness was a 180 from the outside atmosphere.






I took the photo, brought my camera down, and said, "James, your fly is unzipped."






In traditional Russian style, the animals there seemed somewhat abused. Not terribly, but enough to make me feel uncomfortable. There was a pond in the center of the room. It had fish in it, but also only about an inch or two of water, so the fish were on their sides, some barely covered by water, all probably suffocating.




And all the butterflies kind of just sat on leaves, not caring if you picked them up, set them down, whatever. Whenever one flew around it did so kind of drunkenly.






And as icing on the animal cruelty cake, there was an owl, sitting completely motionless in an upper corner of the hot, stuffy room. Wishing for death, perhaps? Yeah I guess I don't really have a good way to end this post.