Look at my tiny umbrella! Look at these ugly shoes! I'm late for my rendezvous with a beautiful lady, I hope she likes my pants.
"I miss you." Lean to the left.
"I don't want to be yours." Lean to the right.
"I thought about you all day." Left again.
"I'm freaking out!" Arms out-stretched, struggling for balance.
"But I really like you." Regained composure.
I balance on a thin line between desire and being pushed away, all the while tiptoeing to the end of the line. The line is short and yet I have no idea what it's secured to. I do three shows a day for an audience of one. Sometimes she laughs, sometimes she cries, sometimes she doesn't say a word and I'm too afraid to look down.
Why do I do it day after day? Because nothing is more exciting, nothing is more rewarding, and I can't turn back now. I need to see what awaits at the end of this journey.
