Waltz Time – Entry 18: Blinking Light, Beating Heart
Waltz Time – Entry 18: Blinking Light, Beating Heart “In the city that never sleeps, even the smallest light can hold a dream.” Back in my first New York apartment, a red light flickered. On the other side of it waited my dream and the sound of a voice I’ll never forget. The light on my answering machine was blinking when I walked into my apartment, that tiny red pulse, steady and insistent, like a heartbeat waiting for acknowledgment. I dropped my dance bag by the door, the strap leaving a faint sweat mark on my shoulder, and stood there, staring at the machine as if it could sense me. The city hummed faintly outside, sirens, taxis, some couple arguing below my window — but inside it was quiet, almost sacred. For a moment, I thought it was you. I always thought it was you. That hopeful part of me, the part that hadn’t learned yet how to stop expecting, wanted it to be your voice on the other end. I pressed play. “Hello Ms. Bruno, I am calling on behalf of Ed Blum Cas...