Dance expresses what the heart feels.
Danielle always dreamed of being a ballerina, and at fifteen years old, she is considered a prodigy. As the daughter of the legendary Françoise Shushunova, Danny attracts the spotlight when she dances, radiatin...
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Every girl who wears a leotard and pulls on a pair of pointe shoes, when performing a grand jeté, feels as if she could touch the stars. And no matter how much her feet and muscles ache, nothing makes her happier than the incredible sensation of being able to fly. Even if only for two seconds.
It seems so little.
In fact, it's everything. In that brief moment when the ballerina defies gravity and leaps after gaining momentum, she ceases to be just another girl and transforms into a swan.
In a gesture of teenage rebellion, I pull out my earphones after growing tired of listening to Debussy and tuck them along with my phone into one of the side pockets of my backpack. Only then do I realize that there are only fifteen minutes left until the exam.
I'm not sure how long I've been lost in daydreams. At least I'm already prepared, with my hair in a bun secured with pins and a hairnet, dressed in the exam uniform. Black tank leotard and pink tights. To keep my legs warm, I'm wearing a pair of black legwarmers.
I rise from the cold floor of the dressing room and walk with my backpack to a corner where there are no ballerinas with anxious looks, confessing their fears to each other. I'm not sure if talking helps at a moment like this.
I've always felt alone before a performance, even when receiving a hug or someone tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear and saying, "You'll shine as always." I can only rely on myself.
As if in a series of flashes, my entire life passes before me as I stand before the mirror and see a blond girl with clear blue eyes rimmed in black, and a face with childish freckles, wearing a leotard.
A girl full of dreams, wearing braces with blue gems, who knows what she wants from life, and despite giving off an air of kindness to others, has three roses tattooed on her right arm.
As I delicately touch my tattoo, I remember Leticia. I smile, recalling the words she said to me that day in the studio, holding me by the shoulders.
"Danny, I have nothing more to teach you."
Before an eager girl comes over to strike up a conversation, I sit down to make a final adjustment to the satin ribbons of my pointe shoes. When I finish tying the bows, the ribbons are no longer just pieces of fabric but parts of my body.
Only those born to be ballerinas know how important a pointe shoe is, much more than a bra, because it gives us the momentum to spin and leap, to do those incredible things that impress people.
Like every girl who has known since childhood what she wants from life, I pursued a dream. Many times I came home crying after bad classes and always reinvented myself, because I'm not one to give up.
I've been doing ballet since I was two years old, when Françoise enrolled me in a small studio in Joinville, and since I was ten, pointe shoes and I have been blood sisters.
