[ WP ] Art has been outlawed .

Apparently someone once said that art is `` anything you can get away with''. My father used to whisper it to me at night. He told me who said it, too, but I've long since forgotten. It's been years since'terrorists' killed him. I think. It's tough telling time with all the calendar changes. 
 
 So... Anything you can get away with? I guess that makes me an artist. 
 
 I was walking to work when I noticed the blind spot. It was entirely by chance. Clumsy as I am, I slipped my headphones into what I thought was my pocket. It was n't until 45 minutes later, at the second daily invocation, that I noticed they were gone. 
 
 Obviously, not having my headphones on during the invocation was a problem for me. If I was n't upper middle class I might not have survived the matter. Or worse. Luckily I could afford a trial by plea and the attorney I needed afterwards. Boy, was he mad at me for trying to voice my own defense at first. Apparently he knew there was no footage of that part of my route. If he had n't been able to argue that I was a stand up citizen who would n't throw away state supplied headphones on purpose, I probably would had at least four times as many beatings. Still, he was n't good enough to argue down to the minimum. 
 
 After paying the standard reissuing, restocking, and handling fees on new headphones and the clip I'm now required to use I returned home. The next morning on my way to work, I realized the magnitude of my situation: The headphones were still sitting there, in the tangled mess I had dropped them in. 
 
 No cameras had seen the litter. No citizen reports had been made. No patrols had passed by and seen it. A true blind spot. I was sure that if I did n't report it I'd be liable for more beatings. But to be honest, I would n't have known who to report it too. It was n't in or around my apartment, so the building supervisor was n't in charge. Nor was it at the factory. Later that night I reviewed the police patrol assignments. Due to ambiguous measurements, the spot was within *two* patrol paths. 
 
 Just to be certain, I waited another five days. They came and went. I even forgot about the spot once. But on the sixth day, I walked right up to those headphones and straightened the cord. One long stretch of headphone, one end leading to my apartment, the other leading to the factory. 
 
 And would n't you know it? Nothing. No police response, no waste removal, no citations or changes in my work schedule. Well, technically, the paperwork finally came through regarding the incident the week prior and my work schedule was increased accordingly, but I must say it was certainly worth it. 
 
 The next day that I passed through, I tried something bolder; I jumped. Hopped, really. Truthfully, I did n't know whether that was forbidden or not, but I do know that the thought would have never occurred to me had I not known about the spot and the security it provided. 
 
 Since then, I've been learning how to dance. I withdrew a family heirloom, a vid of my grandmother dancing. The label is well worn, but the dance seems to be called'bolet'. I do n't have her outfit or footwear, but I've been trying to do justice to the spins she does. 
 
 I learned quickly that if I spent too much time in the spot, some official was alerted. He came to my station a few times, asking if I had stumbled, or perhaps stopped to catch my breath on the way to work. He asks me if I know how important punctuality is to my role in the nation. 
 
 If I'stop to catch my breath' too often, I worry they'll relocate me to a job closer to home- one without the spot. The times I do catch my breath though, experimenting with leaps and twirls and funny poses, those times I get away with something. Those times I make art.
