I enjoyed myself at a performance tonight, entitled "sidewalk etches and other odd anecdotes." My dear pal/former resident/employee, Marlee, helped put together the dance/music/poetry/art exhibition shebang, which benefited the Prison Creative Arts Project, and despite her real-time bout of food poisoning, seemed to effortlessly move across the floor, which made the whole performance even more phemonemal (everyone else was impressive, too).
I still don't get Dance... this Modern stuff. Isn't it Post-Modern by now? Interpretive? Post-Interpretive Modern? What do I know? I have no dance vocabulary. But, what I do know is that it all means that much more when you're close enough that you can hear the pant of the performers, the sound of bare soles against the parquet, and you're nearly kicked in the face by some move from out of a capoeira circle.
Seriously... I felt wind on my face.
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1 comment:
it meant so much that you came.
and even more that you enjoyed it so much.
you are awesome.
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