Tell me about your dance/ the trouble I had
At first I dance inside the minds of people, past around orally as myth and conjecture. I am assigned stylistic frameworks according the mind I inhabit, the Samba, the Rumba, the Lambardo, the Lindsay Hop, Hip Hop, the Two Step. None of them fit. But a more appropriate dance is difficult to tie down, perhaps one that is of this place, but this place is of so many and many who are not interested in dancing together, let alone to the same rhythm.
Gloria suggests we turn the beat around but I am not entirely convinced that this is the solution either. Perhaps it would be more helpful if I could be multiple dances simultaneously. A cacophony of steps that push politely past each other, or perhaps they step all over each other, intentionally inserting a sharp heal into a juicy toe every now and then. But if I continue in this direction it brings me involuntarily to murder on the dance-floor, which is equally as undesirable as it is possible.
And say we can have multiple dances, dancing around each other, what is the central object that draws them together? Is that central object visible or is it imaged?
The dance now leaves the mind and enters the physical world, allowing room in the mind for the imagined dance to occupy this spaciousness. So let’s say the object is invisible. It is an imagined white horse made of rock, this imaginary horse is on the side of a hill, in a small town in South Africa. No one cares about this white horse, so we must imagine it to being it into a collective consciousness. To evoke it’s own dancerliness. So then we dance down the street. From the centre of town to the foot of the mythical white horse, which just so happens to be downtown. The pace is fast and some find it difficult to keep up.
We arrive and the dancing stops. I stop dancing. The dancers disperse. And even though there is plentiful pap those who glow in the dark disappear, they are afraid to be here past nightfall, it is downtown after all. Someone might steal their meat or their car.