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Packsaddle Fat as a finger inflated with fever the beautiful larva of the Io moth lies on a corn leaf awaiting a touch, its skin painted bright as a peacock's tail. You brush it while foddering and the file of stingers stab like ten angry hornets, and your finger swells as if inflated by fire, as the caterpillar curls on its way to the night like a strange word awaiting translation. —Robert Morgan 28 ...

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