walking from the ballet to the bar

Being quiet for all that time made me self-conscious about talking, but holding back words for a couple of hours made them spill out of my mouth.

I couldn't stop smiling. The ballet seems to do that to me.

I thought about how the ride home from an amusement park always feels a little like a roller coaster.

People stood in clusters in doorways and looked a little like they were about to start dancing.

I had been accosted by outrageous beauty. I was drunk on the costumes, the music, the movement and the stories. And something I am not articulate enough to express. I was only missing wine.

Crossing the street, I heard a train whistle in the distance and recognized it as the first sound I would miss if I lost my hearing.