dance flash

Took Oona to her dance class this morning. The studio's lobby reminded me of certain wards in a mental hospital (sorry – psychiatric institution) where I used to work: slouching, half-watching, glazed, overwarm, filled with screams. At least one full-blown psychotic episode abetted by stuffed animals.

Meanwhile, behind the glass, the little ballerinas practiced the movements of a sunflower.

Popular Posts