for the people i dance with. thank you
when time becomes the lemon tea that slips down
your throat
you cannot place it but it is there, moving, running like a river -
and you forget the tiredness because of the talks, the moments in which
we all quieten to listen to someone speak her heart
spatial awareness tells us there is no room for hiding, nowhere to cover up
and the words that draw circles in the air around us dance
in quiet symphonies as we speak and animate them
they become stronger, convicted, they leap with faith.
laugh about right side left side - dominant side first! however the struggle,
in life as in dance adapt to both, together,
we do not muse alone but introspect in the company of friends.
crafting magic – maybe because the brightest thing that holds us together
is magic in itself – we are all stars in the same sky, stitched together into constellations
conversations
after R and Mr Taxi Driver who picked me up from paragon
it usually begins the same way: what school are you from? oh it's IP right? wah you must be very smart, is it stressful? how old are you? how many siblings do you have, oh I have two and I'm the middle child - huh! all girls? got middle child syndrome? same response different forms of understanding, envy, respect. what about your free time? what do you like doing? oh contemporary dance - like hiphop is it? no? I do not know how to put dance into words, so I never manage to explain this with the clarity I hope to elicit. if need be, you ask for my name. jasmine, like the flower, I say. like the flower in all shades of cheer and aromas calm, that grows with much pride and forgiveness, strung into garlands given as a prize. I feel nothing like my name.
as our conversations grow deeper into the night, we tell each other our stories and successes, and you feel the slightest brush of contentment. this turns you into a better person. we carefully glaze over the scars and flaws, plucking at strings, making music as it goes - bit by bit unraveling what wraps a being secure.
tell me your hopes and fears - what do you want to be when you grow up? who do you want to be when you grow up? are we not grown up...? no. don't think that way please. why do you believe in God? why do you not believe in God? what is this secret ambition you've never told a soul, what do you think about when you are alone? well, I have cousins who practice econs and bioengineering and around the table they receive approving nods but when I say I want to write, everyone just gives me a funny look. that's a great ambition. don't lose sight of it. who do you think of before you fall asleep? or maybe you don't think of anyone in particular and that's okay and good, at least to me. what makes you sad? or why are you so melancholic - do you think I am? I am sorry if I come across that way. why are you so shy all the time! haha I'm sorry if I made you feel awkward. did I? no- you didn't. haha. what keeps you sane and breathing? what makes you loved and living?
at the closing of our conversation you ask, what is your name? this time I do not need to reply - you answer for me.
and you forget the tiredness because of the talks, the moments in which
we all quieten to listen to someone speak her heart
spatial awareness tells us there is no room for hiding, nowhere to cover up
and the words that draw circles in the air around us dance
in quiet symphonies as we speak and animate them
they become stronger, convicted, they leap with faith.
laugh about right side left side - dominant side first! however the struggle,
in life as in dance adapt to both, together,
we do not muse alone but introspect in the company of friends.
crafting magic – maybe because the brightest thing that holds us together
is magic in itself – we are all stars in the same sky, stitched together into constellations
conversations
after R and Mr Taxi Driver who picked me up from paragon
it usually begins the same way: what school are you from? oh it's IP right? wah you must be very smart, is it stressful? how old are you? how many siblings do you have, oh I have two and I'm the middle child - huh! all girls? got middle child syndrome? same response different forms of understanding, envy, respect. what about your free time? what do you like doing? oh contemporary dance - like hiphop is it? no? I do not know how to put dance into words, so I never manage to explain this with the clarity I hope to elicit. if need be, you ask for my name. jasmine, like the flower, I say. like the flower in all shades of cheer and aromas calm, that grows with much pride and forgiveness, strung into garlands given as a prize. I feel nothing like my name.
as our conversations grow deeper into the night, we tell each other our stories and successes, and you feel the slightest brush of contentment. this turns you into a better person. we carefully glaze over the scars and flaws, plucking at strings, making music as it goes - bit by bit unraveling what wraps a being secure.
tell me your hopes and fears - what do you want to be when you grow up? who do you want to be when you grow up? are we not grown up...? no. don't think that way please. why do you believe in God? why do you not believe in God? what is this secret ambition you've never told a soul, what do you think about when you are alone? well, I have cousins who practice econs and bioengineering and around the table they receive approving nods but when I say I want to write, everyone just gives me a funny look. that's a great ambition. don't lose sight of it. who do you think of before you fall asleep? or maybe you don't think of anyone in particular and that's okay and good, at least to me. what makes you sad? or why are you so melancholic - do you think I am? I am sorry if I come across that way. why are you so shy all the time! haha I'm sorry if I made you feel awkward. did I? no- you didn't. haha. what keeps you sane and breathing? what makes you loved and living?
at the closing of our conversation you ask, what is your name? this time I do not need to reply - you answer for me.
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