Moon dust

One winter night, some years ago, I slipped on an icy city sidewalk outside the patisserie. The tall young man who was walking in the opposite direction simultaneously lost his balance. Instinctively we reached for one another’s hand, and gripped fast as we rotated. Neither of us fell. Like the gliding steps from a baroque dance, for a single moment two total strangers perfectly supported each another, then moved on.

What does this have to do with Florentine notepaper, or Pink Floyd, you might wonder. Balance my dears, it is all about finding balance.

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