Walking the Tango Labyrinth, Part 5: Labyrinth? What Labyrinth?

It’s not as woo-woo as all that, Glenlivet says.

He’s right. I admit it. There is no end of our capacity to construct magnificent, exquisite edifices to explain our reality.

It is perhaps possible that I could be making a teeny bit too much of all this, reading a teeny bit too much into your dance, constructing an elaborate story around you rather than reading what’s there.

Or, that I’m only doubting my construct because rationality stuck a knife in it.

A superficial wound: quick to bleed, quick to heal.

I tell you, it’s the Circ de Soleil inside my head. Or possibly a Busby Berkley musical.

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.