most children spin. but the girl who is named spice and colours newly two years old in the kitchen spun counterclockwise with her right hand cupped towards the ceiling like receiving, she spun towards her left hand gracefully bent towards the earth like transmitting, the easy bloom of small hand dipped towards the kitchen floor the fluffy grandfather dog like giving.
i learned to spin like that in a wooden octagonal room with a high vaulted window. i watched and listened and mimicked and faster as i turned into the fear of imbalance the fear of faster i spun faster and felt the letting go like a gasp, saw the spike of light pierce my body from crown to toe. the momentum leaves me trembling every time and i do not ever need to feel that needle light again. the stitch was through the center.
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