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Perfectly Poised and Charming, This Woman is That Glamour Girl.
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The sunlight filtering through tall windows of the dance studio warmed my muscles as I flowed through practiced barre exercises. With each plié and tendu, I sank deeper into a meditative state. Tchaikovskys familiar melodies carried my mind far from everyday concerns, narrowing focus to the communication of art through from.
Kicking off from the first position, I launched into a series of center jumps- grand jetes, tour jetes, sailing high across the polished wood floor.
Landing each one lightly as a feather, I could feel my form and control improving daily. Next came pirouettes, spinning faster into a dizzying blur with each repetition.
Moving into the corner, I stretched my flexed feet in attitude derrière and lyrically swept my arms overhead in open fifth position. As the music swelled, I could feel a joyful abandon take over. Lost in the rhythm, I was but a vessel for the music to flow through.
By the time the first movement reached its crescendo, a fine sheen of sweat coated skin tightly stretched over working muscles. A quick pause for breath and longing to continue dancing.
As the song finally chords faded softly into silence, I lingered in delicate balance upon pointer shoes, savoring that fleeting moment suspended between terrestrial and ethereal realms.
As the final note faded away, I opened my eyes to see Madame Dimitreva standing at the doorway, an approving smile on her face.
"Annika, your technique is coming along beautifully," she commented. "Keep pushing yourself as you have- with passion and dedication like yours, the stage is yours for the taking."
Warmth filled me at her praise. I bowed gratefully, before gathering my things to shower. The changing room was empty as I peeled off my sweaty leotard and tights. Stepping under pulsing water, I let it rinse away exertion as my thoughts wandered dreamily.
