I’m boogeying around the living room, when it hits me that her tiny body is so packed full of codes that maybe she’s a kind of word. Maybe a word from God. Maybe this is the only liturgy I can handle right now. She’s so strong and so happy, despite her world crumbling around her, that I can only gaze in awe. She leaps into the air, giving shape to the music that reposes in all matter, just waiting to be released. She lands solidly on her fat little feet, then leaps again. She liberates the music and, in her innocence, cannot know what she has done and thereby is all the stronger.
