Face-Planting, and Reflections on Art. Madrid 18 Years Later.
The female dancer stood up from her tiny wooden stool then graced the stage. She waited. Gathering her skirt, and her forces, she tapped in to something. The force overtook her and she moved along with the melody and song, contriving her body and stomping loudly onto the wooden stage with melodic and staccato taps and clicks. Her face contorted as the emotion flowed through her. An intense look I will never forget, one who’s story moved me to tears. Continue reading Face-Planting, and Reflections on Art. Madrid 18 Years Later.
