Whistling: Food for Thought
Yesterday morning, I was not alone at the keyboard. In my company, on my desk pad, climbing up my clamp-on lamp, and streaming out from under the National Geographic that, for reasons I cannot explain, has been on my desk now for at least six months, were a hundred very small, very black, very fast ants. Had I left them to their work and purpose (I imagined them and even think I heard them whistling Colonel Bogie March while they worked) they would have …