Emilyanne loved to dance.
She loved to throw her head back, close her eyes and feel the music moving through her, wild and free. She made up the steps as she went along; she moved as though her muscles were a viscous liquid beneath her skin. Her arms were stringed instruments; her feet, percussive.
There was no difference between sound and movement when Emilyanne danced; she was the music given shape, she was the dance given voice. There was no beginning, there was no end; there was only now, right now.
She never wanted to stop.
© 2011 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Lampwork beads by Melissa Vess, Seed beads, bead-woven.
