when i was writing of a dance
12:21 in narratives by tanner
there is an allure in the movement, the whisk of fabrics, skin bare, skin adorned. the energy in the room of motion, emotion, the eagerness of dancing as a prelude to significant events. a dance is a ritual, not so much scripted, but allowed to flow free. and in dancing we find ourselves, in the motion, we create an island of thought. when we are truly alone, having found the center, we move to return, to embrace, to hold near what we hold dear.
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