Dance is flight
‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’, they asked. ‘A dancer, I said, ‘and an aviator, I went on. ‘Dance is flight. You see, each airplane in the sky is meant for one cloud, forever. When they fall in love, they tease each other until they enter a state of cosmic beatitude. They make circles around the sun or get swallowed by a full moon, into a vast emptiness.
You’d think airplanes travel all alone; but truth is, no story blooms in isolation.’