Back in the Net

It’s the thing that spun me away from the circus. I have only met one person who has one too. He told me he made his own and smiled as I tried tricks all of ten inches above the ground with a bandage from ankle to thigh and still upside down.

My aerial net always seems to have a reckless and creature-like soul that comes alive more than any other equipment. It is has that brutish, tantrum misbehaviour and like a big black horse only I could gallop while other were thrown, find the right balance and it gives the strongest, blissful rest above ground.

It gave me my last performance and it gives me Butoh. It is my difference from anything else that was ever in the trapeze school of women in jazz boots performing grace to Phil Collin’s tracks. It is like Collin’s the horse in Radcliffe Hall’s Well of Loneliness. It is my infante terrible.

This is the first time in months I started creating with it again.

 

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