A sliver of a whisper, dark ghost of a tale floated into being, directed at a broken cage to weigh down, perhaps, or to tarnish the glow of a new heart beating… Deja vu of a whisper, ancient but familiar… poised on a stage, an unknowing audience, an unsieved unit, to draw out a sparkle […]

The music starts. Yet feet don’t move. Or even shuffle in tandem. There is a silent wait. To dance. To be free. Together. First moves and leads unsure and unknown. Waiting to dance. The music continues. I stand still. Waiting.     4.17.2011