A man… Standing on the edge…Eager to take that leap…into his childhood...Yet a fear holds him back...the fear of losing his past & present.
Because he remembers the boatman who was stoned out of the village for talking to a bird and the beggar whose beautiful songs nobody could hear.
Because, at least once, we have all called him mad. That half naked man who shambles down our street, clutching his whole life in a sack and muttering god-knows-what to himself.
Because he knows that those who were dancing were thought to be insane by those who couldn’t hear the music.
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