You will all have heard my stories, you will all have drawn my breasts my nose and your conclusions. You will have me figured, flat and static as the lines you drew. But you never heard all my stories only thought you did, never made all the stories you could have made with me or even tried, never saw my finest lines. The lines you drew were in your sand but my sand is quick. You are all alike. There are always more stories and more artists. I feel like dancing.