Proselytizing, she was proselytizing about my knees.
She stood there her hair athunder, her glasses crooked with passion.
I was taken aback to hear such words spoken about my knees. The disciple bent and admitted her mistakes begging for forgiveness.
I rose in fear and obeyed her instructions. Answered questions honestly. Gave secret information freely.
She stripped my knees down to their bone, muscle and sinew, reaching their very soul, their very being.
Then she asked me to stand with my heel on the edge of a tiny piece of paper and the pain vanished.
I left with just one question. Could Jesus, Moses and all the Hindu gods have been misunderstood physiotherapists?
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