Pennynohead learns balance

I slipped through the narrow gap beneath the balcony door, stepping out into the vast, bright hush of the morning terrace. The tiled ledge stretched forward like an expansive open-air stage. Near the railing, a weathered wooden clothespin lay abandoned on its side, weathered and silvered by sun. Pausing in profound stillness, I considered its utilitarian geometry. With unhurried composure, I pressed down upon the metal coil with both gloved hands until the wooden jaws parted with a sharp snap. Tilted upright against the grout line, it stood like an austere proscenium arch greeting the sky.