"Smooth" was the category, under which fell dances like the tango, the waltz. The partnerships were spray-tanned and hair-sprayed; made up with the darkest eyeliner and the shiniest sparkled hair jewels. The dresses splayed like birds' wings as the girls spun--hot pink, whispering blue, white with black embroidery. Their movements bled one into another like a long silken ribbon.
The individual partners dances gave way to group dances; to music with beats that echoed in my skeleton and punctuated the dancers' gestures. Twirl, pose, stomp, twirl, and twirl and twirl and twirl until surely they will topple over--but they don't.
They are so free, and I am almost free just watching them. If only I could get up and join them myself:
Smiling like mad. Glitter radiating from my bare arms. The shine from my earrings perforating the stage light. Eyelids gliding over my contacts in pleasure, pleasure only half-faked for the stage. Blind to the audience, but alive in my own shining sphere of spotlight.
Few things are so like dancing--singing, writing, drawing, laughing. These things let us open our souls to the world and vacuum up all the good that's in it, and release some good into it, too.
I'm taking a ballet class this summer.
Let the vacuuming begin.
Great post! So awesome that you are taking a ballet class! :)
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