There was a spider at a petrol station.
Not one of those small specimens that modestly retreats into a corner. This one had legs. A great deal of leg, really. All included, it easily reached a span of seven to ten centimetres.
Exactly the size at which an adult suddenly discovers that walking backwards is also an option.
I did something else.
I took out my phone.
Not because I am particularly brave. I too would probably swallow hard if a spider like that suddenly decided my shoe was the shortest route to safety.
But as long as it stayed still, I wanted to look first.
A giant house spider looks impressive. Fast, too. The moment it starts running, it seems to have an appointment for which it is already late.
Yet above all, it is shy.
If it appears to run straight at you, it is usually not interested in you. It is simply choosing the shortest route to a dark place. The fact that you happen to be standing in that route is administrative bad luck.
It is really a giant with stage fright.
Large enough to silence a room, but happiest disappearing behind the scenery immediately.
Perhaps that is why I found it interesting.
We are used to deciding quickly what something is.
Beautiful.
Ugly.
Sweet.
Dangerous.
Scary.
With a spider, that judgement often arrives before we have actually looked. Eight legs are apparently enough to skip the entire investigation.
But through a camera, you look differently.
You remain for just a little longer. You see the fine hairs on the legs. The posture. The shadow. Perhaps even something resembling caution.
The spider does not change.
You do.
Where someone else sees a reason to move away, I often first see an unexpected encounter. Not because everything has to be beautiful, but because almost everything becomes more interesting when you do not immediately look away.
That applies to spiders.
And probably to people as well.
The giant house spider remained for a moment. Then it vanished at great speed to a place where no one could see it.
I kept the photograph.
Perhaps fear mainly tells us that something came close.
Curiosity makes us look for just a moment longer.