Your fingers are dancers on metal rings, tap dancing to your anxiety. Sculptors without clay; carving air itself into miraculous energy. Or, in fairness, a massive, exasperated sigh. Who else do you know that reacts to your tics with joyous exaltations? Just dance me to the end of this perfect ballroom inside your mind: No wonder your fingers are dancing. -e. _______________________________________________ Five7Five mailing list [EMAIL PROTECTED] http://www.pairlist.net/mailman/listinfo/five7five
