The wind on wet leaves, sounding ever so slightly different than dry leaf rustlings. An approaching tempest, spinning itself dizzy hundreds of miles away, tinging the unimaginable number of daily weather-oriented small talk interactions with a touch of the ominous.
Nights that disrupt days, and rain that dissuades attendance. The delay of one shoot offset by the invitation to another. Ninety minutes of visual, if not proximal, envelopment by (proximal possibly being unenvelopable, exact definition and proper usage being hazy, at best, within me) the fit beauty of Boston’s youth in motion.
Acquaintances in costumes have thrown me off all weekend. Nothing like a wig, some face paint, and some props to turn that feeling of “hey, we met once didn’t we?” into “…you’re affiliated with this, so I may know you, but as you are I have zero bearing on whatever history may or may not be between us.” Unfortunately offering your name won’t help, as I’ll sheepishly admit to not remembering it, if it was ever spoken, if we even ever met. Phew.
URBANITY DANCE! Between the Lines. Still a couple more shows: