There’s few things the invoke a sense of sadness and mortality than inadvertently stepping on a snail. Half-way though the process – mid-crunch – the mind realizes what is happening and that there is nothing that can be done to alliviate the situation.
I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be a snail that has been stepped upon. One moment, life is going along as any other day. Then, in an instant, death.
Snails don’t seem to understand the jeapordy they place themselves into when crossing the paths of humans. And, even if they did, they could do very little to avoid catastrophy, slow as they are.
I read a book once titled “In Praise of Slowness.” We could learn a lot from the snail.