I’m laid out on a portable table with physical therapists on either end of my body. Feeling like the Scarecrow in Emerald City as J & J pull, twist, squeeze, and bend my limbs, I let my muscles go limp and my mind wander…
…but my brain can’t help its connection to my bones. My left big toe twitches- or maybe one of the J’s tugs it- and the twinge of pain pulls me into Act II. Odette’s suspension and sadness seems so sweetly suited to me today. Her fragility and strength juxtaposing into a whirl of delicately feathered fortitude. The pinnacle of feeling most beautiful in sadness, now Odette is really singing my swan song.
A feather, like the shadow of a crushed flower, reveals its gentle spine only when it has fallen. With grace matched only by the spring petal, a feather floats on air. Buoyant elegance. Powerful subtlety. Tender sovereignty. This is my thesis. This is Odette’s leitmotif. This is the fine mingling of swan and queen.
Setting The Barre 