By Ben Lockwood
Dance is not a thing we do, but a place we seek. The words burned in her mind as she spun her body wildly across the stage. The abyss would reveal itself to her this time. She could feel it coming.
Her movements became nonlinear. She pulled her arms inward and circled faster. Soon, an endless black plane would open before her. She needed only to reach the space between perfection and abandon.
Motion expanded.
She wasn’t losing control.
Speed moved.
She didn’t have control.
She hurled herself against confinement and, for the first time, felt the void open to her.
I sense that this fine piece of writing was penned by someone who knew about dance. Kudos.