A story, however short or long is art. This story was inspired by my dad.

What I believe in.

A dance, so beautiful and strong, a single move so drastic and insignificant. Dance is beauty and expression, love and hate, feelings of yourself and others.

Summer, summer. I let the word roll of my lips gracefully embracing the feeling it produces. After seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months I'm free.

This is about my teacher. A warrior, a beautiful independent woman, I’m leaving her class but I wanted to write this.