What I learned about Stilt Dancing
Tie an anchor to one end of a rope,
throw it over a boat into a river.
Study irregularities in the air.
What if you walked across the river on stilts?
Kousei, threaded through the mouth by his
afraid of broken strings and setting his story
You will be there right Ms. QH?
Everyone is going?
Where will I meet you when I get there?
Will my mom know how to get there?
Where is the gym?
Will I find the gym when I am there?
Our first day at Viscount Bennett, we were afraid our notebooks would be empty and we would be adrift without the things we lost in the fire.
Navigating a foreign storyline, I sailed to the gym anticipating the frenzied child I’d need to buoy up through these days. The gym was pulsing with the sound of African drums and the bodies of excited students. Somewhere in the throng I had to find Kousei. Rising above the waves of kids were the stilt walkers; their ribbons of swirling tales reaching out to upturned faces. Under one brightly coloured, dark faced, thin giant stood Kousei, mesmerized, hypnotized, drinking in the silent narrative as yellow ribbon circled around his head.
And he was dancing.