IDENTIFY THE TONE OF THE PASSAGE:
When I turned four, my father taught me the
salt dance: he sprinkled a line of salt on the
living room floor, positioned his bare feet on
top of his shoes, and told me to leave
everything I feared or no longer wanted
behind that line. His gold flecked eyes high
above me, he walked me across that salt
border into my brand-new year-he backward,
I forward-my chin tilted against the bottom of
his silk vest.