I’m 150’ off the ground putting one foot in front of the other. Then the next foot, slowly, deliberately. My heart isn’t racing because I’ve acclimated. There’s no net to catch me if I fuck this stunt up—I will plummet down and land on a tiger or elephant or straight to the ground if I fuck this up. I’m only a quarter of the way across. This level of concentration is physically & mentally exhausting. The cheers & jeers saturating the atmosphere in this white-top don’t even enter my mind. No ear plugs. Halfway there. Heart rate 50 bpm, hands dry & steady. One thought penetrates and it’s 150’ dash to death. I hear one baby cry, gaze veers off course, which is currently straight ahead: broken ankles, fractured spine. Dead. These facts I know—3/4 way across—but the only thought I have is one foot at a time. Not even that—all that’s purged. Only thought—‘Forward.’ Even simpler. Peel away the last layer. That’s where I have to stay. Inside the molten core is where I am. Not even ‘I’. I might be 150’ up but my conscience is a hollow laser. Not a black hole. Neither something nor a sink. Until I reach the platform, the ‘acrobat’, the ‘absence’ of ‘me’ is putting one foot forward. Forward. Go. 0. .
100%. I’m not dead in the jaws of the tiger. I’ve made it again.
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