[ A lethargic looking Amory Felix sits in front of the camera, leaning forward on a dark brown couch. Besides him sits one cat, curled just as languorously around a pillow. Dark shadows trace the bottom edge of his eyes, and for a moment, he blinks blearily. ]

Ballet was her nemesis for fix years. But she had to do it-- the requirements of privilege. I rode horses. She did dance.One day we raced down a hill on our bikes, and she careened off the side: bent her leg all the way backwards, shattered her knee-cap.

As we sat there in the brush, waiting my mom, Elisa realized how much she wanted to do ballet, only after realizing what fucking up her leg that badly meant.

[ Pause. ]

Differences sharpen the truth. If they don't reveal them.

[ This anecdote is brought to you by Amory Felix and the pop of a beer bottle, which a thin wrists pulls into the view of the camera -- he's not hiding it at all.

He downs half of the bottle in a single gulp, then leaning back against the couch. Silence, now. ]

I can force myself to do a lot of things. I've dragged myself through mountains of shit, and-- you know, I made a valiant attempt. [ He takes another swig. ] Now, I concede.