Article: 288598 of talk.bizarre
From: Andy Green <>
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: dancers
Date: Sun, 01 Dec 1996 16:45:07 +0000
Organization: Spare Wheels Inc
Lines: 18
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It was one of those times when memory feels like so much empty
skin. I had woken early and climbed a hill to watch the dancers in the
valley below. The sun was rising as I arrived and I could see its
reflection glinting off their cold glass eyes as they shuffled slowly
forward to begin their dance. They formed a wide circle and began
moving slowly, raising their arms to the sky and then lowering their
claw-like hands to scrape at the ruined earth. The sun gave their
bodies a metallic sheen and shone back blindly from their eyes as they
raised their heads so they could not see the damage they were doing.
After a while the circle broke, as it always does, and the dancers
danced alone, each digging a circle around itself, each one eventually
falling into a silent heap on the ground.

	I knew a man once who had visions, and the visions became
ideas, and the ideas became words, and he wrote them all down and found
that he could only see the words on the page. I like to think that the
dancers are digging for his soul, but I know in my heart they are only
digging for pebbles, so they can sing and be free.