I used to catch a butterfly and play with it. I raised my head and couldn't count the number of butterflies floating above me. The bright light made their wings to blaze in thousands of different colours.
Some time passed. I caught a butterfly, stared at it for a brief moment and extricated it. The colours of butterfly wings began to fade away.
Then I caught a butterfly, glanced at the grey wings and crushed it in my hand. It turned into a dust which was wafted by four winds.
Now I have no more butterflies left.