Each dance step we execute is a slap in the face of immobility. Because you seek a chosen path.
Some tunes jingle inside, some tunes jingle outside.
This is when the extremities recall having been wings, when the blue sky bends down to help us heavenward. Just yesterday you weighed three hundred pounds and now you re a feather rising on the notes of somebody s whistling. Being limited by what they know, they turn to math. It must be counting, it must be numbers, it must be time. The grave cannot stand a racket and even a tapped foot is a form of boogie.