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up in the air
Calliope pondered the abstract. “Shark?”
Thalia squinted. “I un-derrr-stand your guess — but noooooo! Try again! Think bigger! Hiiiiiiiii-er!”
Nia’s patience for guessing games was scant. “Airplane wing.”
“Are we going… somewhere?” Cal’s voice lilted in rhythm with her question.
“We’re always going somewhere.” Nia cleared her throat. “The real question is — are we — upgrading ourselves for the next leap.”
Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next or how… The artist never entirely knows. We guess. We may be wrong, but we take leap after leap in the dark.
~ Agnes De Mille