WELL, there's no slug behind my own *personal* disintegration, but there is a smallish one underneath the pages decaying in the garden.
I didn't take a picture of it this morning (this is an older photo) but I had to go peek - take a quick look - to see what's going on underneath the "project." The pages are sodden. It's been raining quite a bit lately, with some real downpours and then sunshine.
The garden is quite muddy and the weeds and flowers are starting to come up around the paper packets. Under one of the stacks of pages it was really quite dry. Amazing what a little protection from the elements will do. When I lifted up the second packet of book pages (they are tied with string) I found a curled up baby slug.
Now normally I do not let slugs survive. In fact, if I have a motto, it is "No slugs on my watch." I am merciless in applying salt or turning them into slug paste with the back of my small hand shovel.
Can you see me now, dancing in the garden under the full moon, applying slug paste to an effigy of my mortal enemy - the aphid? My hair is flying in the midnight breeze, the stars whirl overhead, the neighbors are coming out and standing in their yard to stare ... oh, what was I saying?
Sorry. Got carried away there for a moment. The Disintegration Project is coming along. Two library cards left to give out. Hurry, hurry, hurry! Talk to you later - femminismo