Another of our favorite pairs - secure in their expertise and sense of purpose in the universe.
Like so many of our bears they are here to dance in moonlight - as long as the music or stamina lasts.
I'm a little jealous. I can watch dancers, I can read about dancers, I can dance in my brain. In real space, in real time, on a real floor - well, no. Hell was surviving a Jazz Dance class in college. I have fond memories of certain soundtracks. "Blues Brothers" and "All That Jazz." No good memories of actual physical attempts of movement, keeping count, memorizing routines. It's a mystery? To me, yes.
The shelves hold a number of dance-related texts. I read the words of Twyla Tharp. I appreciate Edward Gorey's obsession with the New York City Ballet. But my own legs & arms remain confused and bewildered.
That's O.K. We all have our gifts and faults. I'm going keep dancing the pastels around the studio. And stay awed and amazed by those who actually Dance.
Fare-thee-well,
Sue
No comments:
Post a Comment