Thrusting her heavy bag over her shoulders, she stepped out into the afternoon sun and allowed the UV rays to sink under her skin. She plugged into her iPod, and listened to the soft piano melodies that floated into her ears, tunes that made her insides dance pirouettes and jetes. It was like a ritual for her, to prepare her soul to dance, by centering herself into the music of Swan Lake, Nut Cracker, Beauty and the Beast, and other ballet pieces.
She walked along the road towards the bus pick-up point, passing by a convex traffic mirror. She came to a stop as she realised she was in her cargos, tee and dunks. "What am I doing in my hip-hop outfit?!" Her mind began to run through her busy schedule, and made a mental note that hip-hop lesson is the day after.
She then reached deep into her duffel bag to see if she brought her leotard and tights to change into, but only pulled out her long, soft, satin black skirt. She dug further, and pulled out her ballroom shoe, towel, water, everything except what she needed for her ballet lesson.
She stood there confused and blurred, and asked herself, "So, what dance am I doing?"
What am I doing?
Work it out slowly.
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