I gave a dollar to the man on the subway singing "Yo Soy Feliz." It was just him and a guitar. He wasn't even loud, just walking up and down the car, singing in a mournful way.
Then I danced. For the eighth night in nine nights.
Hail Bohemia.
Then I danced. For the eighth night in nine nights.
Hail Bohemia.
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3 comments:
I think things are better when you dance.
Your partner must be the luckiest man alive. At that moment, "the only living boy in New York."
I love reading about when you go dancing because I think you figure things out, about yourself, about others, about the world, when you're in movement.
I do the same thing, only on a much less coordinated level.
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