Then, just when I can’t stand the sadness anymore, a dancer floats out from the side of the stage. A dancer in ragged clothes, filthy and half starved. He’s not even in ballet shoes. He’s just barefoot as he glides out to take his place in the dance.

The other dancers turn to him, and it’s clear that he is one of them. One of the lost ones. By the look on their faces, they weren’t expecting him. This is not part of the practiced show. He must have seen them onstage and joined in.

Amazingly, the dance continues without a missed beat. The newcomer simply glides into place, and the final dancer who should have danced solo with her missing partner dances with the newcomer.

It is full of joy, and the ballerina actually laughs. Her voice is clear and high, and it lifts us all.

Chapter 58

58

When the performance is done, the crowd goes wild with their cheers. There is total abandon with their clapping, whistling, and shouts of bravos.

It’s amazing.

I’ve never felt so moved by a performance before. It’s not like I’ve been to a lot of ballets or any other live performance at all. But the sense of camaraderie here tonight leaves me breathless.

Like true professionals, the dance troupe takes its bow first before the dancers converge on the newcomer onstage. The hugs, the tears, the cries of joy are a wonder to see.

Then they spread out into a line, hold hands, and bow again. Everyone is up on their feet, and none of us worry about the noise we’re making or what we might bring upon ourselves.

The twins are right. This is life.

No one can really top that ballet performance, and I assume no one will try. Everyone seems happy to have been a part of it.

The twins get up onstage to clown around and entertain people. I’m guessing they’re giving people time to absorb what they just saw so that someone else can get up the nerve to perform. They do a magic act that’s almost professional. They fumble a few times, but I know they’re doing that for comedic effect, because I’ve seen their work and it’s amazing, as good as any professional stage magician.

After that, a young guy walks up onstage carrying a battered guitar. He looks like he hasn’t had a shower in days, his face is covered in scruff, and his shirt has a splatter of dried blood.

‘This is a song sung by the late, great Jeff Buckley called “Hallelujah.”’ He begins strumming his guitar, and he quietly transforms into someone who I’m sure would have been a celebrity at any other time.