My phone rings so rarely now I forget I composed the ringtone.
‘Charity gig,’ said my agent. ‘Global. Do it.’
‘I don’t do charity. For anyone. I don’t do live anymore.’
‘Biggest stadium in London,’ she announced.
I was still alive because my career was circular not vertical
From Helsingør to Copenhagen to London and back.
At the side of the stage the fear that had taken me off it returned.
‘Drink this and go on,’ she ordered.
I felt as invincible as childhood.
My voice soared into the floodlights.
‘Good evening, Helsingør!’
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