~Just Like Heaven


    Grr, argh, blah. Something intellectual. Etc.

    This is for you to read, and enjoy, and be puzzled by. Have fun with that.

         -some person

La Classe De Danse (WIP)

          The voices coming through the window from the street below were distracting Elise from her ballet lesson. It didn sound like a particularly interesting conversation, but words seemed to penetrate her mind more so than the words of the strange old man in front of her.

          She still didn know what to make of this man who was so obviously out of place in Paris. He was not even as tall as the youngest girl in the class, who was twelve, but he was just as imposing as their other teacher, Mademoiselle Durand, and perhaps more so because of his stern Asian face and peculiar accent.

          Elise forced herself off of the conversation in the street and tried to understand the old man. His accent was alright ?better than most foreigners that Elise had heard ?but it was his words which puzzled her.

          he most important thing you will ever learn in ballet is to breath,?he had said at the beginning of class. Elise and the other girls had said nothing, but waited for his explanation, unsure if he was speaking in jest.

          He was talking about breathing once more when she turned her attention towards him for a second time.

          reathing is the rhythm of life ?of ballet; if you are not the breathing the way your are supposed to, then whole dance is ruined!?/P>

          One of the younger girls spoke up, ut there no special way we breathe, we just do?

          o,?the old man pounded the end of his wooden walking staff on the floor, hen you are angry at little brother because he has spilled jam on your dress, what does your breathing do? It gets faster; angrier! Same with dance: if it is angry ballet, you breathe angry; a sad ballet, you breathe sad; a happy ballet, you breath happy. It vital, vital to breath properly, or else audience will not believe you.?He paused and looked around, as if the make sure they were all listening. ecause ballet has no words does not mean it has no language; only that you have learn that language, and part of the complex language is breathing.?/P>

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5 Responses to “”

  1. Capnmaff Says:

    So when I do math, I breath math…man that is deep…

  2. sarahgrin Says:

    Brilliant, Olivia.  I love it.  It applies to making music, too.  But I love the visual of dance.
    ^_^

  3. djeikyb Says:

    no worries, nothing about the post to merit comments yet : ) lol @ comic (and nice new(?) colour layout!)interesting story. i want to read more.

  4. Crabbattle Says:

    You goof! You’re not a terrible sister. I’ve gone away from the internets. I’ve thought of you and I still like you! You’re still my Savvy Livvy Casablanca de Luna! A girl named Olivia came into Starbucks yesterday and I smiled cause it made me think of you!Woof!

  5. EthanByUntitled Says:

    Major props for the excerpt. That was fascinating reading- I’ve always had lots of respect for ballet and the graceful arts. Hugely poetic.
    Yay.

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