I am 4 tightly pulled cello strings and the world is moving its hands across them like lightening, plucking and pulling, snapping strings and rubbing them together. I get lost in the blur, I can feel my hands begin to shake, a corset snaps to my skin like a magnet, slams against my ribs and my stomach quivers like a door frame. Then only short breaths are possible, if I breathe too deeply I will break, combust, shatter. Short breaths, staccato, and hope the tempo slows. I will be lucky to get to 30.