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Rated: E · Other · Arts · #1338568
In my english class i was asked to write about a place that had meaning to me.
It’s a place where my heart and soul spill onto the floors. Where my mind, body and spirit are drowned in every move I make. This place is where my entire being escapes from the reality that I face. Where everything is forgotten and I focus entirely and completely on what I’m doing in the present. In definition it’s a “studio”, a ballet school. A place where people share a common passion for one thing. Never though will anyone understand the strong passion I share for what I do within those walls. A large open room where everything has a meaning. Windows fill the far side of the room where the panes are the canvas for my cities unpredictable weather. Weather being the determining factor for what the mood of the room may be. Sun being the undeniable fact that saying “It’s hot” is an understatement. Rain trying to over take the sound of the music that ricochets off the walls and a blue sky day without either sun or rain being somewhat of a blessing. But whatever Mother Nature decides to grant us with we still have one mission and it will always be to dance. The Barres on one wall supports us for perfecting some of the many things we need to know. Hardwood floors cover the surface where are feet glide and sweep across the room. Mirrors cover another wall where they reflect our days work. The scent of hard work lingers throughout the air. This place has more meaning to me then my own self can comprehend. My body rushes with an uncontrollable love that I share for this place and what I do here and for the people that surround me when I enter. Whether I enter with a frown, or an uncertain face, I always leave with a smile. It’s a place where I don’t mind doing the work, where I don’t mind pushing myself to an extreme. Where suffering the next day just proves that I’ve danced my heart out. This place has taught me that my own being has the ability push itself and I can have greater love for something than even my own self can’t understand. Everything has a meaning here, from the grain in the hardwood floors to the people who dance upon it. Whether I’m pushing myself to keep my cramped foot pointed or moving my body in what seems to be a natural pattern, this place will always be with me.
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