Stories

The ice glitters - how can he do anything less?

It's a facade, of course - he knows that better than most; understands it in ways that those who stand only on earth never will.

They'll never understand the glide, the speed, the almost flight of moving across the ice. Is it any wonder he sometimes pities them?

On the ice he is free in ways he will never be anywhere else - free to be anyone, free to love anyone.

It is here he plays out stories of love and tragedy, hoping not to fall before the music ends.

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