In the stables of historic horses named Prince and The Widow...every hour 10 minutes of dancing, 10 minutes of preparing the body, 5 minutes getting out of the stable, 20 minutes of desperate active napping.
at 3am I felt distinctly that my body was asleep while my mind, by act of sheer telekinesis, was moving the body without the help of muscles or skeleton. Eyes open, feet smell -- they are not used to being in shoes for 16 hours straight. Audiences are shell shocked, rude, rapt, lovely. The floor is cold, hard, easy to spin on, stained by historic horse poop.
it was an incredible night of dancing. filling a ghost ridden building with fresh, respectful life. Guided by horses long gone and the Romantic fantasies that swirl around Casa Loma -- especially at 4am.
From what I can see the Nuit Blanche festivities were most inspired across the city. I only wish I could have seen the dancing mascots at Lamport Stadium.
some part of my body is still dancing, scraping a hoof, tossing a tiny, cellular mane. It may take days for the ghosts to leave me.