Twenty
This is what she said:
Look at the light. Concentrate on the light. There, in front of me in the pitch black, is a tiny glowing point. As I stare it glows more brightly, begins to grow. Bigger, bigger. It was a central footlight, illuminating an otherwise darkened stage. And on the stage, directly in front of the light stood I. Blinded, dumbfounded, I was ‘on’. Time to perform. It was, I suddenly knew, the light of life. The light at the end of the tunnel, of the birth canal. And I screamed—in surprise, in terror, in indignation, at my expulsion from my life before birth, into a life in front of the footlights. Now I had to perform for others, in full view. I howled accordingly. Darkness again; my awareness of the footlights fading but their threat remaining, just out of sight. Sn
