telute
fast, slow, pacing myself as I pace, trot, pirouette, glide all the ways of moving two feet forward, dancing at times, but usually walking
i walk to work, pacing myself while i read, my steps in time with the words walking thorugh the page of my mind the authors phrases like the quick steps of a dance making me dizzy as they spin me onwards in the story.
tall scuptural things of grace which rise above the ground beyond my reach they contain such dreams and aspirations of the pople who walk within flitting shadows at windows beyond my ken and yet so near that i can see them as they move these are the holders of our fantasies