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Saturday February 24, 2018                                                                     (A week and a day after the dance)

 

When people ask, I say ‘intense’. Indeed, it might have been too much.

I fell

In bed and had to stay there for two days.

Migraine, fever, cough.

Thinking about my solo for at least 20 people.

It begins with a countdown

It ends with a countdown

None of which I knew were there before they happened.

The first countdown poured me into slow movement. My fingers moved as though they had been sleeping all this time; until now. Then I became a slave to my breath. Sudden, inconsistent, sharp. Leading my hand, and then my arm down my shoulder and chest -base strong- to go outwards first, then gather in (like stabbing), then in-forward-up-down-in again, taking the rest of my body into a dance of taking back.

A small vodka bottle found it’s way in. I thought I would take a sip but I didn’t. I rolled it, tossed and caught it again, but soon I let it go to return to the dance of taking back.

Rhythm: |…l-|…l |…l-|…l |…l-|…l |…l-|…l

Then smooth and sustained trying to remove that suborn rhythm that’s deeply embodied. Fail.

Jumping, kicking, turning, kneeling, falling, pausing, playing with imaginary lights I catch in my fingers. I dance my way out of the costume. The rope that’s holding it together slips through the loops and becomes my new toy.

Someone has brought a small barrel and placed it a little off centre. I’m holding my rope, trying to dance a duet: Whip, round, hold and circle. Turn to get wrapped, get wrapped while turning. A familiar pair of hands get hold of my ties. Tension and testing of strength. A sound that means trouble. -oups!

She lets go.

I make a round shape on the floor with the rope: SAFE

People are playing with the lights around me. People are moving. But I’m SAFE.

I come back to me. Everyone is tempted to break my circle of safety. I can feel it. I anticipate it. Someone finally gives in. I am transformed into a cat-like beast and hiss at them and rage. I walk-run frantically in circles around my broken heaven. Not SAFE not SAFE not SAFE.

Sounds begun to emerge. Starting from the moving body, the body that was there to be looked at; my body. Small breaths or big ones, leading to the activation of the vocal chords, making a call that eventually found an answer.

Monologue becomes dialogue and the welcoming of the first reply gives room for more to come. The room is buzzing. Movement and sounds.

I’m looking straight at the wall when I make a sound that carries something of a wild animal. A similar sound comes back like a boomerang.

Action – Reaction.

The sound he makes brings movement into my arms and hands and fingertips.

‘Again!’ I shout, and my proposition is accepted.

-5 times, I think before we move on to the next story.