dancer raze you should fall in love with a ballerina, she said. hell, you should just fall in love with yourself. suction cup your soul to the tallest tree you can find and hope for the best. because whatever you're chasing, that's what you've always been. you can do anything you want to. you can do anything you like. it isn't an accident that your feet look like swollen hands. gout didn't do that to you. or evolution. or anything. we're all dancers doing the best we can to hold on, wringing grace from the dry, cracked hands of certain disaster. if you fall, i fall too. so fall. 220402 ... ovenbird My solemn little dancer, there is no gift like watching you keenly find your place in the_music_of_things. Your feet find the rhythm that lives in the floor beneath you. Every step is a part of you, every note a liquid instruction that moves the sinew that sews you together. Your spine is a willow_switch that bends further than I believe possible. You are learning the lessons that will keep you from breaking. You make yourself a wheel, head tipped back until toes touch crown. Tiny ouroboros, you are my greatest act of alchemy. Everything is connected. Your heart to mine. Your hand to the future. My soul to the stars from which I came and to which I will return. When the music stops and the stage goes dark I can still feel you breathing. My heart is in your hands. Your feet are on this earth. And for the briefest moment, nothing_else_matters. 250623 what's it to you? who go blather from