There are a race of hunters interested in human beings, to chase them they take advantage of the fascination for light of our species. Hidden I got to see their work.
Placing the bait
They prepare their traps at day, with lines they erect temporal structures.
Song of fire
And at night they fire them, to gather and harvest the human moths.
I can barely bear the vision of the light… so haunting, so spectacular…
A red flower that exists for around a heartbeat to vanish into the black without stars.
End of the night
And the lights starts to vanish. The hunters are going to harvest the mesmerized crowd.