GilesWatson

Existence in flux, on the edge of becoming or ceasing to be.

Look! Even now her body speaks that ancient dialect of motion she learned in her long ago, when her flesh was pliant, when she could depend on her muscles, easily cultivating grace and flow. She no longer dances publicly. She instructs and directs the company's young dancers. She shares with them those physical arts of eloquence, of gestural poignancy, the arts she's devoted her long career to perfecting. You may have noticed how many dancers use this bar. She's here when old friends are passing through. She sips demurely at her spritzer, she wears her hair pulled back severely, an ascetic in the service of dance. Her body disciplined