He holds a cane—not for walking; for dancing; a dancing stick. Not a stick that dances but a stick for a man who dances with a stick.
There is sound in his feet. There is sound held together, laced into rhythm by the wormy-white ties of his shoes.
This picture can move. I hear it tapping. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. What’s it they say? “From screen to stage” or something of the sort.
Read about Fred
