Throughout my childhood the reprimand from adults is what I remember the most. Whether it was my own parents, teachers, or strangers, it was always there. Don't talk so much. Calm down. Behave. However, the fondest of memories is when I would play in circles. I'd spin my body like spinning in an imaginary carnival ride. I'd spin & I'd spin until it felt like I wasn't spinning anymore... Until it felt like I was standing still watching the world spin around me. Then, once I would finally stop, I would be met with the sharp reality that the world was still. And at the same time the world was not still at all. Then came the aftermath of dizziness & a massive headache. My mother would get upset when she'd see me looking sick. "Lorena, why do you always do this if you know you're going to feel bad once you're done!? You're gonna fall & hit your head one day just wait!" But, this never phased me... It would be a new day & once again I'd begin my tango with the air. There I was, a child foreshadowing what my somewhat adult self would continue to do for the rest of her life. I run in circles. I spin & I spin even though I know the outcome is never good. I spin & I spin even though I know that the consequences are inevitable. I spin & I spin because even if it's short, while I'm spinning & when the Earth seems frozen there is always an eminent hope that maybe just maybe this time things will end differently...