By Chris McLaughlin

Walk where you have walked before, a narrow strip of woods growing narrower under each surge of development but still surviving.

There’s an arts center on the land. Today most of the galleries are closed, but from the theater come children’s cries of delight, drumbeats, dramatic voices.

The balcony door’s not locked: enter.

“No,” booms the actor. “Wind is stronger than I am. It can blow the clouds before me and take away my light.” Little Mouse thanks Sun (that’s who the actor portrays) and goes to seek Wind, who happens also to be a recorder.

But Wind says Wall is stronger: “It can stop me in my tracks!”

Little Mouse scurries in search of Wall, who is not the strongest either, pointing to the hole at its foot. “Holes can make me crumble and disappear,” says Wall.

Well. You’ve certainly guessed: the hole is Little Mouse’s house, and the message is that you must find your strength and courage in yourself, Little Mouse. It will take so many different shapes.

Also, we don’t always know what we think we know.

(Joy takes different shapes too. Everyone should dance and whirl about like the actors and the wind outside, in so far as we are able, like the little girl the teachers have cornered so her whirling might not set the others to fly about like scattering leaves. Whirl a little yourself in sisterhood, up there in the dark balcony. No one’s watching you.)