From the extraordinary Hopeland by Ian McDonald:

Auberon Brightbourne strode onto the dance-floor. No hesitant, testing steps here. He must throw himself in. He swallowed the four-on-the-floor and the heat, the spinning lights, the intimidation of other skin in his personal space. He danced as late-sixties Irish nano-gentry must: flailing and awkward but without self-consciousness or irony. Irony is the murderer of honesty. Those men who could see him nodded, smiled and gave him space to spin on.

Seems like a perfect goal for my late sixties … to stride onto the dance-floor and dance without self-consciousness or irony.

Up next listening and pain listening opens that which pain has closed. – Jerry Colonna, Reboot (Chapter 1) Seems like listening is something I come back to on this blog. See Freelance Dance Artists’ Working Ecology
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