Dance is a home and shelter.

A language I have always spoken with myself.

I understand her.

She understands me.

Dance is the spiritual practice of my flesh and bone.

It breathes me awake.

It empties me out.

It fills me up.

The dance takes all of me as I am.

Dance accepts my joy, my sorrow, my delight, my rage, my ecstasy, my grief.

It does not ask me to reject or deny any part of who I am.

Dance is the complete me.

My dance sets me free.


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