There was a song playing, a very pretty windy piece. When I visualise its colours, I see pastel crayons, it is pleasantly messy, it has swirls of rainbows in between. I think I see a sparrow’s swift with threads of silver spinning out. I say I choose to live my life on my wings. I choose to move. I choose to be a guest. I choose to fly.
My dance is tip-toeing on a sedate pace. My poise is dignified. I feel fear losing. There was none in the first place. My fingers sway lithely. The mirror is not reflecting me.
Today I danced.