[ WP ] A common housefly has lived for over a year . Making it seem like an ancient immortal compared to the rest of its species . In under three paragraphs write from the fly 's POV or from the POV of an outside observer .

It knew, somehow. It understood that there was a strangeness to its existence, a pleasant strangeness. Pleasant that, as its umpteenth generation of progeny whizzed around frenetically, almost desperate in their pursuit of life, it persisted. It still whizzed, and whirled a little bit, that was simply what it did. But there was a... practiced feel to the random movements that propelled it towards food and and sex. That's what the strangeness was, it was coming to realize: memory. 
 
 An interesting concept for one so driven by instinct, without an extensive neural network to manage information. It could n't fathom how that had happened, its longevity and the accompanying familiarity with being alive, and did n't really care to. All it knew, somehow, was where to feed, and how, and where to reproduce, and how. It did not behave *better* than its progeny, or even that differently. Just a little slower. A little more practiced. 
 
 And so it dove down from the heights it had come to prefer, near the ceiling and the blooms of light, down into the food bin, carelessly left cracked open by the normally fastidious creatures who inhabited this place. It sought out its favorite dish, pizza crust tinged with Dr. Pepper, and ate.
