I walked to the water, even though it was really too cold for water. Music and sand and the sunset. Empty chairs in an uneven row.
It’s been a while since I danced.
We talk about pancakes and the day you wake up for the first time. Friends and aquaintences and the presence of a savior at your most dire need. The sun keeps setting.
Hear an answer to a question that usually finds no resolution. “When you start to live in a false reality, you must be humbled” The words go all the way down. There are no sure ways to always be a badass. Some days are just winter.
“When did you stop dancing?” I say honestly “When she died.” I get an honest reply “Thats tragic” I spin and I twirl and I jump and I remember.
Remember it’s what I love the best.
The sky turns orange, the music plays, the singer sings, I see my prints in the sand. The worlds tumble out like marbles between breaths. “The thing about tragedy, is you cant let it make you tragic.”
I convince my audience along with myself.
The dancer dances. The sun goes down. The singer sings... and I remember.
