The Move

Since the age of six, I knew that I was to be a dancer.The beauty of the long, graceful bodies, radiate throughout the space, as I feel my heart clench with fulfillment.I am fascinated by the lingering, yet precise movements, which the dancers seem to perform with such ease.They stretch their legs as if reaching for the heavens; grind their Pointe shoes into the floor as if to conquer hell.Perfection is captivated by the unison of the dancers.These movements are the essence of The Nutcracker, the heart and soul of dance.My motivation to dance started when Ifirst witnessed this indescribable sight.Witnessing the beauty of The Nutcracker was an instant inspiration, which I always keep close in mind.

My goal in everyday of dancing is to reach the perfection that I experienced at the young age of six.I feel my feet rush over the floor.Running across the room, the surrounding air disturbed by my increasing momentum, I think of the actions, feeling the step pulse through my body.When thefirst glimpse of my foot leaving the ground happens, I clench my muscles, hoping to find a center of gravity.I rise higher and higher into the air with each passing second, while my legs spread farther and farther apart, until they reach their full extension.My arms form a perfect arc as they stretch to meet above my head, which strains to look at the mirror.Toes pointed to their fullest extent, as if being pulled by some invisible string.At that one single moment, I'm suspended in mid-air, until I start to fall toward the ground.I make a poised landing, stepping through, landing quietly, as if I'm only a whisper.I step out, and face the mirror, out of breathe, but fully content as the thought of what just happened passes through my mind.

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