Wednesday, May 2, 2012


From a distance, it is a beautiful dance. Assemblé. Pointe. Tendu. Arabesque. Relevé. They are awed by the shapes, the control, the speed and power of it all. Emboite. Glissade. The melodious praise seduces me. It makes me forget that it is all an illusion. And so, I wake up the next morning renewed and ready to perform it again, but only at a distance. Penche. En face. One day, perhaps, if I believe as strongly as the others, I too can believe that my life is harmonious. That he didn’t leave me ravaged and desolate like the path of a tornado. Promenade. Pas marché.
*** Daily Writing Practice***

April 26, 2012 5:28 PM

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