i may have been pirouetting inside my mom already around nineteen years ago. i was shocked to hear the story from my mother, that i came out with twisted feet. one doctor told my mother to lock my feet in casts. another told her to just massage them everyday. so here i am, with twisted feet, though not so obvious to the world. it's a defect only my eyes see. but not so much of a defect that it stops me from pirouetting until now.
and so this is what i do. i pirouette. through my days, through my weeks, with my friends, through my obligations, through my classes, through invitations for intermission numbers, through life. it's all i ever do well, nothing else. i pirouette like breeze and it makes everyone happy. and i end up like a howling wind in Robert Frost's woods.
