He has come outside to ask me a question, and so I answer it, and then I show him the web. "I've never seen anything like this before," I say (again and again, to anyone who will listen). "You haven't?" he says. We are bending slightly into the bushes, peering at it. I am still holding my camera, finger crooked through its case's belt loop. He is the second person in close succession whom I have subjected to the web, in these day-ending moments that turn the light from afternoon to evening. He gestures over the inverted bowl of the web's main filaments, and I see that I was mistaken last night, to think they shaped a sphere. "These others, out here," I mishear him say, as he gestures again, "are for suspense."