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This is just a requiem for the soul.
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I wonder...
will the dust accumulate at the windy benches, now that there isn't anyone there to polish it clean..?
will the barre finally stop breaking, now that there isn't anyone to sit on it while checking on formations..
will the windows gather a layer of grime, without nosey girls peeping through the curtains, staring out into the rain and field.. giggling, fooling around, teasing..
will the messages on the dance studio's board start falling, when the glue gives up hold and names slip down like dried leaves from an ancient tree.. or like misplaced tears from a numb emotion..
will the sms bill climb back to normal from 900 each month, now that there isn't anymore "please pass..". because there isn't anything to pass anymore. not now, not tomorrow. maybe not ever.
will i forget how it all meant to me, the one and a half years of practice for 7 minutes of pure pride with the blinding silence of lights, with the hushed anticipation of an audience, my audience of lovely people..
will they forget me, will i forget them. will we relegate all memories to the back of our minds, a distant past, in anticipation of a future. a future with different paths, different ambitions, different dreams..
will we forget the blisters, the pain, the strained muscles, the soaring, the falling, the laughing, our crying
the dancing..
I wonder..
