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Micro-Landscapes of the Anthropocene

Insectostance

1. (Noun) The adoption, if only for a moment, of the perspective of an insect.
2. (Noun) The assumption of the outlook of the individual amidst a crowd; the viewpoint of a discrete unit that exists within a collective. Eg the perspective of a bee in a hive.

Etymology
'Insectostance' is a hybrid word, a conglomeration of ideas and morphemes. 'Insect' refers to the scientific grouping of small creatures whose perspective is of interest to the insectostance, but also to the less common definition of 'cut apart' or 'dissect'. In adopting the insectostance, one cuts apart (but does not discard) the collective and thus recovers the individual. The word 'stance' is added to contribute ideas about perspective. 'Stance' is a viewpoint but also a way of standing and, by extension, a way of being. The insectostance does not seek to remove the individual from the crowd; it merely wants to understand and benefit from the way they see the world.

* A note on the forgotten morpheme:
It is the sound that connects the ideas together, the sound that bridges the gap. 'o'. It even has the appearance of a gap. A hollow shape that demands pursed lips when it is spoken. It rarely stands on its own in English, and when it does it is furnished with the wistfulness of poetry or the emphatic affirmation of dialogue. Like the moth in Virginia Woolf's The Death of a Moth saying "O yes...", this 'o' represents a voice. The voice of the insect that is so easily overlooked.

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The Dead We have an ant problem at out place. The siege began at our bathroom tap and we were bewildered because they did not seem to be fighting for food, just the memory of water and the occasional toothpaste stain. Then they made their way to the kitchen, marching when undisturbed, scattering when found out, and settled themselves in the cracks beneath the fruit bowl, the overhanging ledge of the windowsill, and the hollow beneath the kettle. They are stealthy, these interlopers. They work silently, undiscovered until a plate is moved or the toaster shifted and suddenly they are revealed in the dozens, exposed to the wrath of a wet cloth and human indignation. I used to pity them. They seemed so small and innocent, so organic in their desires. The wish to eat, sleep and breathe did not seem so very awful. But then the multitudes grew. We were always outnumbered; we became inundated. They burrowed into our fruit, congregated around the bread pulled from the oven, stalked obdurately towards the contents of our bin. When we bought traps they danced around them. I could not longer see the individual ant; they were a mass, a hive, a multitude. I had lost track of the insectostance.