(Imagine a top that is spinning)
Once upon a time.
There lived a girl.
A girl with an incredible ability.
The ability to spin.
When she was young.
And still learning how to spin.
She would spin small things.
Stories. For her Barbies. Out of thin air.
Harmless. Imaginative.
When she was a bit older,
She would spin more.
Stories. From her own life. Into magnificent tales of adventure.
Captivating.
As she continued to grow older,
She learned to spin anything and everything.
All day long she spun.
Eyes closed. Head tossed back.
She spun. And she spun. And she spun.
People would come from far and wide to watch her spin.
(Is your top still spinning?)
She spun. And she spun. And she spun.
And the people brought her stories to spin, just for the spectacle of it.
She spun the stories of the people she loved,
She spun the stories of her community,
She spun the stories of her nation,
She spun the stories of her world.
She spun. And she spun. And she spun.
And the stories she spun, she held tenderly in her hands.
She threw them into the universe.
A handful of glitter.
And the people whose stories she spun barely recognized their own stories anymore
Among her constellations of stories that she swiped across the sky.
They didn’t seem to care.
One day,
(Did your top stop spinning? It is awfully hard to keep a top spinning forever.)
She stopped.
For there was nothing left to spin.
She was dizzy from all that spinning.
Now she was an old woman.
No one came to see her spin anymore.
She had spun herself a universe that was all her own.
She spun the sun into the sky.
She spun houses, schools, museums into existence.
She spun blue skies and storms.
She spun oceans and forests.
She spun herself a chair.
She sat down.
And she rested.
For once, there was no spinning to be done.
She opened her eyes and saw the world that she had spun herself.
AMV