Somewhere, sometime, someone said I was just knee-high to a grasshopper. They didn't mean anything by it, but the image was instantaneous: that greenish-brown oblong head towering above me, huge compound eyes examining the top of my cranium, 10-foot-long antennae waving wildly in the air, long furry palps dangling from its jaws. Those jaws! Sometime before, I had met a man who kept crickets in a beautifully carved box, inlaid with glass. He fed them fruit and potatoes, and they sang for him in the heat. He told me that crickets sing with their ankles and listen with their knees, and I watched them for hours, sometimes imagining myself among them, living in... More >>>