Metaphor

It’s a blind date every time. Sometimes a friend has made a recommendation, but often you just know a few vital statistics. You go in with butterflies in your stomach, wondering if you’ll kiss goodnight, be slapped, or just shake hands at the end with no desire for a second date.

Sometimes you get crushed; disappointment is never pretty and a mediocre date is often worse than a bad one. But when all goes well, walking back from a kiss goodnight your feet never touch the ground. You’re ten feet tall and glowing.

And that is why I’m a busker.