air to breathe


I met a man once.

When we got to talking he asked me what I did.

I told him I’m a dancer.

“Neat” he said, and then “What do you really do, though? What are you actually going to do with your life?”

If I can’t dance, then I might as well die right now, I said to him earnestly.

I don’t think he believed me, for he only laughed and turned away.

After he left, I began to notice my skin was turning cold, crackling, and threatening to fall apart….. it had been too long since I had moved. Even that short conversation with the unbelieving man was too grand a pause, too much time away from dancing.

So I ran as fast I could and leapt, flew through the air, wind catching hold of my hair… giving myself up to my life’s purpose. I felt the warmth return to my skin, my pores brimming with satisfaction, maintaining seamless balance. It was as though finally I had provided them with the air they needed to breathe.

I think I may have landed sometime after, I’m not sure.

In my heart I’m still flying through the air

Photo Credit: Alexander Yakolev

14 thoughts on “air to breathe

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