Dance, Sing, Love. Book 1 (english)

Prologue

For as long as I can remember, dancing has been everything to me. It is an integral part of my life. I will never forget the first ballet lessons with my father.

I watched my dad closely, and repeated his moves as good as I could. During our first lesson, I wore soft ballet shoes, a beautiful leotard, and a pink tutu. My mother fixed my hair into a bun, and I felt like a real ballerina, just like the ones I had seen performing in my dad's work. I wanted to be like them, flying over the floor as they danced gracefully.

"Very good, princess. Now turn on tiptoe. Keep your hands up high, as if you want them to touch the sky," my dad said, grinning at me and dancing the first steps. I chuckled and imitated his moves.

My mother came into the room. She leaned against the door and shook her head with a laugh.

"Ignazio, don't be so hard on her. Livia is only 4. I think half an hour of practice is enough."

"She wanted to keep practicing!" he laughed. "She doesn't want to take her ballet shoes off. She likes this."

"Mom! Look, I'm dancing!" I exclaimed, smiling broadly. I was eager to show her the steps my dad had taught me.

As I spun around, I tripped over my feet and fell on the floor. My mother's eyes widened, and she hurried over to me with outstretched arms to help me up. Before she could reach me, I got up on my own and stood on tiptoe. I ignored the aching pain in my knee from the fall, determine to show my mother what I had learned. I wanted her to be delighted by my dancing, just as I'd been thrilled to watch the other ballerinas dancing across the stage.

"I'm not done. Look what else I can do," I said, and raised my hands high up, just like dad showed had me.

My mother stood next to my dad and watched as I danced. When I finished my last move, I bowed and laughed as I ran to my mother's arms. "How was it? Did I fly?" I asked, eager to have her approval.

She embraced me and took my hands in hers. "Beautiful, darling. It was beautiful," she said softly, and kissed me on the cheek. "Go ahead take off your costume. Tomorrow dad can teach you more."

And he did, just as mom said he would. My dad taught me day after day, week after week. And with each practice, I fell more and more in love with dance. My father infected me with his passion. For as long as I can remember, our house was filled with music, singing and dancing. My mother was an actress in the theater, and had spent most of her career singing in musicals. My dad was a professor in choreography. When I was 4, I began to learn basic dance steps. We started with ballet, because every good dancer should know the basics of it. Ballet developed a dancer's sense of balance, control, discipline, and a desire for perfection.

After ballet, we worked on Jazz dance, street dance, and ballroom dancing. I quickly mastered the basics of break dance, and then house dance, and hip hop. I was hungry for more, and went on to new dance courses with a endless desire to learn every dance style I could. With the support of my parents, I strived to fulfill my dreams.

After graduating from high school, I became a dancer in a troop called "Black Diamonds", assisting the biggest names in the music industry.

We were mainly used as stage background during shows. As the artist sung, our role was to spin around and charm the audience into awe, to make the concert or gala rememberable to fans.

However, no single dancer was ever remembered. Our faces were quickly forgotten. Fans in the audience would focus on the singer, their idol. Not on us. Yet, we were the scene, and without us, the singer would be nothing.