Where do I go? Follow the river.

Follow my feet rather. Or my artsy soul. It led me to my second home. Its funny. Funny interesting, not funny ha-ha. I am breaking at the seams. I could have run anywhere, I could have done anything, I felt desperate enough. Where did I go? Dance floor. Its safe there. Lights off. Air conditioning off also, which was unfortunate. No one else around. Is it the movement or the music? Or the melding of them both?
Not just any dance floor. I don't intend to (rant and)  rave out my angst with strobe lights lost in a crowd. No. A ballet/ modern dance floor. With scuff marks, and neon tape for blocking. A stage, an empty stage. Where little ones learn to point their toes. Where common ground is found, where blood, sweat and tears are expressed metaphorically and physically. Where anger is beautiful, sorrow moves hearts, another world is spun and leaped into. Its safe there. Its like the corners of the floor curl up and embrace you. When being alone is not alone; its filled with imaginary players in the story you are creating with your body. I can't pretend to have a conversation with someone who is not there. But i can dance what I want to say to an imaginary dance partner.
I don't even have to dance. I can wander, foot padding across space full of opportunity, where no motion is wrong. It just is. Stepping onto a dance floor, walls go up, not defensive walls, fourth walls. The glorious space that turns to color when everything else is sepia. Its all that matters. Let out there be out there. In here... In here life is beautiful. The girls are beautiful. Even the orchestra, is beautiful.

How does anyone know anything? Why does everything have to be planned? When will I go home today? I don't know. Why does that need to be planned? How will I know when to go home if i don't have a plan! I'll know. I never have a plan of when to leave here. Yet somehow, I always end up home again. I just.. know. I can feel it. Of, yep, time to go home. Why fret about it now? It'll come. Stressing about setting a time now has no purpose. All it does is make me fret about time, and how much time is left, and how to get more time in case I need it, what if I am not ready to leave at set time, why does it matter? It doesn't. So fuck goals. Why does everything have to have an end point in mind. Everything has an end. But why can't the getting there be a surprise? Not so much a surprise as a revelation. An enlightened moment, that can't come if one is worrying about time. I am a fan of navigating life without time, deadlines, concrete goals. You learn so much more that way. And are at so much more of an ease. Like on Ikaria.