suppose it is you crawling through the grass. well, crawling might not be exactly what you are doing, maybe you could call it hopping. but there might be a more suitable word for the creature you are. wait, I'll get my dictionary to pinpoint the exact word. let's say, yes, you are prancing - a wonderful mixture of practicing and dancing - and for the kind of creature you are, surely it is very brave what you are trying. but, you might of course want to call it other names, nevermind that, because whatever you call it, it is something you definitely do on your two front and your two hind legs. aren't you? I'm sure you have tried many times to keep your balance on your two hind legs only, but until now you have failed. haven't you? don't worry, you'll manage, I'm sure, because for one thing, I can tell you, I managed to do it. not that you'll catch me boasting about it. I just want to tell you, so you know that it is possible: I've stood up myself, I have averted my eyes from the green just as you have, I have bent my neck to a degree I'd have thought was impossible for me to do, and I have taken in the blue of that sky above my head. Just as you have. What a feeling, isn't it? I thought I'd never bring my head down again. And before I knew it, a day had passed, and I had completely forgotten to bring my head down. And my front legs, as a matter of fact as well. and when I reached the level of self-consciousness that taught me this, I couldn't contain my agitation about it, and of course, predictably, I fell back into my old pattern. the four leg pattern preceding the prancing. I have tried it since, but I have never succeeded as well as that one time. maybe it is because the sky hasn't turned the same blue again as that first time. or maybe the leaves got stickier on me. Anyway, each night before I enter my house of leaves, I stand up and bend my neck one more time, and I try to burn that level of prancing into my body, so that maybe at night I'll dream of reaching the sky. I'm sure you'll wake up on your two hind legs one day, and the prancing will have paid off. Until then, don't think you do it because you hate the leaves under your feet.
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suppose it is you crawling through the grass. well, crawling might not be exactly what you are doing, maybe you could call it hopping. but there might be a more suitable word for the creature you are. wait, I'll get my dictionary to pinpoint the exact word. let's say, yes, you are prancing - a wonderful mixture of practicing and dancing - and for the kind of creature you are, surely it is very brave what you are trying. but, you might of course want to call it other names, nevermind that, because whatever you call it, it is something you definitely do on your two front and your two hind legs. aren't you? I'm sure you have tried many times to keep your balance on your two hind legs only, but until now you have failed. haven't you? don't worry, you'll manage, I'm sure, because for one thing, I can tell you, I managed to do it. not that you'll catch me boasting about it. I just want to tell you, so you know that it is possible: I've stood up myself, I have averted my eyes from the green just as you have, I have bent my neck to a degree I'd have thought was impossible for me to do, and I have taken in the blue of that sky above my head. Just as you have. What a feeling, isn't it? I thought I'd never bring my head down again. And before I knew it, a day had passed, and I had completely forgotten to bring my head down. And my front legs, as a matter of fact as well. and when I reached the level of self-consciousness that taught me this, I couldn't contain my agitation about it, and of course, predictably, I fell back into my old pattern. the four leg pattern preceding the prancing. I have tried it since, but I have never succeeded as well as that one time. maybe it is because the sky hasn't turned the same blue again as that first time. or maybe the leaves got stickier on me. Anyway, each night before I enter my house of leaves, I stand up and bend my neck one more time, and I try to burn that level of prancing into my body, so that maybe at night I'll dream of reaching the sky. I'm sure you'll wake up on your two hind legs one day, and the prancing will have paid off.
Until then, don't think you do it because you hate the leaves under your feet.
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