Dance for me.

Dance is blood for me. It flows within me and through my hands and feet and out through my hips and shoulders. My lips spout dance phrases, my hands wave and make patterns in the air, my feet draw elegant circles on the floor. I rise and I fall. It makes me feel alive.

So how, can you ask me to leave? How do you ask me to leave dance behind? How do you ask me to forget something as simple and yet as complex as moving to one song, to one bar of music, to paint a picture, to express sensuality, sexuality, passion, anger, avoidance, uncertainty, in just one dance?

Dance and get lost. Literally.

***

One a completely different note, I have sworn that I wouldn't be desperate enough to come to the hospital library and use the free internet access after work. Wanna guess where I am right now?

I'm supposed to be figuring out the routine for the dance. And as my usual lazy self, I need a bit of a kick to get started. Huh.

Turning the music on always gives me a bit of a start though.

Um. Yeah.