Well it was more like 10 or 15
minutes. No Fair Lady, I danced.
A happy coincidence of parkinsonian
alchemy led me to discover that an hour or so after a dose of Prolopa, the
mixture of sufficient nourishment, a glass or two of red wine, and the right
music resulted in a window of functionality I hadn’t experienced for too long.
The On-Off Phenomenon of Parkinson’s.
Like a lot of magic (think Cinderella)
it didn’t last long before I turned back into a pumpkin. Or in this case into a
turtle, if turtles had long hind legs on which to dance, back to a twitchy
sitting voyeur.
And maybe it will be like the fleeting
Ecstasy of a drug user’s first time that leaves them searching for that high
that will never be the same again.
But for now, when I feel it, I dance,
day or night for as long as it lasts. IIWII. It’s no use begging for more.
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Feb. 2013 Hotel La Résidence, Saint
Louis Sénégal.
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