I wanted to write something important.
I wanted to write something for Rehtaeh Parsons, who lived and died in my city, and who was let down so tragically by the people she should have been able to turn to for help.
I wanted to write something for the people of Boston, who woke up this morning to celebrate their marathon, and who faced terror and pain before the day was through.
I wanted to write something about how important it is for us to connect with each other, help each other, love with all our hearts.
But there aren’t words for what I’m feeling right now. Not for me, anyway. There is only movement.
Dance with me?