It is bitter-sweet for me to think about dancing; at its most bitter and most sweet when sitting alone with a favourite piece of music, silently reflecting on the intoxicating feeling of being in the throes of dance. Even just thinking about it I can begin to feel my thighs and calves tingle and tightly vibrate with the numb sensation of a full-body head rush; like when you think of eating a sour candy and your mouth begins to water. There is a memory there that I cannot fulfill; so vivid but unreachable in my present body. There is a palpable longing for the freedom, the ability to express the sparks that pulse in my veins. 


Featured Image Credit: Giorgio de Chirico, Mystery and Melancholy of a Street, 1914

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