The slow dance begins once more; this time my mother's pas de deux......
and we, weary from past duets, recall each stumbling step of this strange ballet crafted from DNA's complex choreography.
From the wings we watch the poise and elegance with which she glides across the floor; held in the firm caress of that same spectre with whom we shared our stage. Whilst we stand in the shadows
silently awaiting our cue......... a stalwart corps de ballet.