I was 6...or something...when I first started running around on a shag carpet under a blue light with my father dancing to The Firebird and The Rite of Spring. I would pretend I was a ballerina but I was a weird little girl and something tells me everything was coming out like Nijinsky's Le Sacre du Printemps - knock knees and crooked -because when I saw the reconstruction of that lost tragedy, that holy grail of dance, that shame upon 1913 society, I remembered, as if stunned by it, the awkward beauty of dance and the dissonance of the music that breathes into the bodies that create it.

Friday, June 25, 2010

salome: dance of the seven veils

I found this one day on YouTube. Her name is Aida Gomez and she is a flamenco dancer with huge boobs. It's a pretty sexy version of the Dance of the Seven Veils. The things a woman will do when she is pissed...and the lengths to which she will go to see it done. It's an old story.

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