Saturday, June 29, 2002

Its raining in baby puff showers.
I want to go dance.
Twirl to a salsa, jaunt to a jive, sway to a mambo.

There’s something about dancing….
One leg perched precariously on the edge of a beat, hip ready to cut through the next, now stopping, now stealing, now falling.

Let the body go, show them what you are…weave the web and add a little glitter…

Dancers speak the truth; knowingly, unknowingly, they let you in to their secret wants, their imaginary personas and their ideal worlds.
A performance, a wooing, an exhibition, an exuberance, a catharsis…

The origins of dance tell so many stories of the people that brought them into the world.
The Cossacks dance a controlled, disciplined fight; watch their faces, no emotions bertrayed.
The Dervishes twirl in a cosmic ritual, on and on and on.
The Latinas contort their bodies and faces in the physical agony of the upheavals their history has taken them through; passionate, angry and very sensual.

Dance to me has always been an outlet. Never thought I would succumb to the discipline of a dance form. So it was with some trepidation that I walked into a dance workshop.
I saw a mambo and I was hooked. OOOOMPH like wow!!!!!!
And then I went onto the cha-cha and the jive and the waltz……And it goes on.. maybe the tango next week.

Another to a never-ending list of addictions, this one should last for another month, hopefully.

I sway to cha-cha beats on railway trains and hear ‘Mambo Italiano’ in my dreams…
Another bit of tinsel in the sky:)