A mire so dark and stubborn that I can’t draw myself free?
Or a plane so full of wonder, stretching beyond the eye can see?
Rather, I see a ballroom. Silhouettes of dreams, memories, ideas and thoughts waltz at their own pace, their own tune. I, the conductor of the band performing, each gesture I make triggers a different groove, a different song.
A different tune for a different aspect one might say
Then along came a spectator, a single person sitting in the balcony, watching all this happen and my attention is focused on that sole being.
I turned around to gaze at my featureless band and I began to move. Gently gesturing to each group of instruments to begin their part of the piece. The song I conduct now isn’t meant for the dreams, nor the memories, nor the ideas, nor the thoughts. But for the sole audience member. The only entity vivid enough for me to impress, to entice, to make my existence known apart from these shadowy figures on the ballroom floor.
And the silhouettes danced, and danced in unison they did.
The song ends and I turned back.
There is no applause, no mumble of confusion, no jeers of dissatisfaction. I couldn’t tell if I did anything wrong or anything right and I begin to wonder if the melody I played was even called for to begin with.
All I managed to catch was the glance of that sole patron in the balcony, albeit an unreadable one.
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