luncheon’s improv ronde de jambe

When they watch me dance, I transform. I am more than a slicer of apples and a nurse to sore knees; I am beauty. I am essence. Their eyes widen. They watch in wonder. I am not fooled: I am no prima ballerina. But in ronde de jambe and demi plie, I am beauty. This is more than a kitchen. There is light splitting into rainbows. I see it through their eyes. Movement’s infused in color, meaning, light. I am not fooled. They watch me transform because I dance.

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