the space between the ground and her ascending body, the Art merged in gravity, the shape of her footprint on the sea weeds,
the clear sky and the turbid marshy water,
a grasping chant heard from far, THE DESERT FADING AWAY, A VAGUE MEMORY OF A FELLINI'S DREAM,
a short night of sleep , a small fire pitt inside a mute devastated jungle
STRENGTH and fragility HAND IN HAND
the sound of the BIG BANG
THE DANCE OF THE LEAVES FALLING FROM THE TREES,
herself dancing climbing up the trees,
the jump, the flight, the hight, the fear, the trunk, the beat, the fall, the spine, the jump,
the beat, the fall, the heart, the jump, the beat, the fall, the air, the beat, the fall, the leg, the ground. the beat, the heat, the heart.
I see dancing for Nuria as her most comfortable way of being. Her true nature. Her softest couch. The extent of what we can't see. The space between her body and the grass smashed under her red boots. Her body flying, dancing.
Dance for me is like being nude in public and these images are my second chance to move and occupy inner spaces, to fly and fall freely. To find joy in dancing.
To the dance and its endless ways of falling.