
It’s a dance, a dance no one ever had to teach me. A dance I’ve known since I first saw my reflection in my father’s eyes. My partners have been princes and starving artists, Greek gods and clowns. And every one of them certain they lead. But it’s always my dance. I make the first move, which is no move at all. I have always just understood that they will eventually find themselves in front of me.
Primitive, beautiful animals. Their bodies responding to the inevitability of it all.
It’s my dance and I have performed it with finesse and abandon with countless partners. Only the faces change.
And all this time, I never suspected the night would come when the dance would end.