bubblesandjellybeans
The Weight of Water
There are some people in this world who can dance. Those people who make every movement seem like magic, those dancers for whom the whole world is a stage. It is a wonder to see the way they own the space around them with their motion. They know their body and the way the lines of it, each running and intertwing with another. And every line is poetry and where there feet fall, there is the flight of birds, the swift and silent rush of leaving this world behind. The long delicate limbs and cruve of the neck have the beauty only afforded to those who stretch it to its limitations. The way the poet crafts with words or the painter slathers a canvas with words, these people make magic out of motion. And our eyes follow.
The Weight of Water
There are some people in this world who can dance. Those people who make every movement seem like magic, those dancers for whom the whole world is a stage. It is a wonder to see the way they own the space around them with their motion. They know their body and the way the lines of it, each running and intertwing with another. And every line is poetry and where there feet fall, there is the flight of birds, the swift and silent rush of leaving this world behind. The long delicate limbs and cruve of the neck have the beauty only afforded to those who stretch it to its limitations. The way the poet crafts with words or the painter slathers a canvas with words, these people make magic out of motion. And our eyes follow.