Rhythm in Motion
As the orchestra started with the overture the two dancers came out.
There was no spotlight; instead the entire stage was brightly lit. Had
there been one, it would not have been able to keep up with the fluid
and often unpredictable dance moves of the couple on stage.
While they had been dancing together for years now and the classical numbers to which they danced rarely changed, they did not stick to a scripted, choreographed dance routine and often improvised moves and explored different parts of the stage that they hadn't before. To an outside observer, though, the moves would appear flawless and seem like they had been practiced thousands of times before.
The Carnegie Hall was one of their favourite venues. And today they had the Main Hall - a gigantic enclosure with close to three thousand seats. The acoustics were great and the music echoing and reverberating from the four corners of the arena made their dances even more special.
The orchestra was instructed not to take too long a pause between pieces. After a perfunctory bow to each other on stage they would plunge into their next dance and sometimes they would forgo even that formality and seamlessly change from one dance to another. The moves were elegant and effortless. Her lithe body seemed an extension of his and when he lifted and twisted her in mid-air, their muscles seemed melded together and they were, for those moments, one being.
As they had been doing for the past seven years, they danced for an hour and twenty minutes. As the cymbals got ready to crash in the final crescendo he lifted and twisted her one last time and gently set her down. They bowed, smiled and hand in hand walked off stage.
There was no thunderous applause or bows to the audience as the seats were empty. There was no acknowledgement of the orchestra either as they were shielded from the stage by a makeshift screen.
***
They had the money. He was the Chief Financial Officer for a Wall Street firm and she was a criminal defense attorney. Every third Tuesday afternoon for the past seven years, barring vacations and illness, they had danced together on some of New York's biggest stages renting whichever hall they could. While for those eighty minutes on stage they shut out their crazy New York City lives, the reverse was not true. Any time real life seemed to overwhelm them they would escape in their minds to their grand dance studios, harness the calm and control they felt on stage engulfed by the music and enamored by each other, take a deep breath and face the next challenge head on.
While they had been dancing together for years now and the classical numbers to which they danced rarely changed, they did not stick to a scripted, choreographed dance routine and often improvised moves and explored different parts of the stage that they hadn't before. To an outside observer, though, the moves would appear flawless and seem like they had been practiced thousands of times before.
The Carnegie Hall was one of their favourite venues. And today they had the Main Hall - a gigantic enclosure with close to three thousand seats. The acoustics were great and the music echoing and reverberating from the four corners of the arena made their dances even more special.
The orchestra was instructed not to take too long a pause between pieces. After a perfunctory bow to each other on stage they would plunge into their next dance and sometimes they would forgo even that formality and seamlessly change from one dance to another. The moves were elegant and effortless. Her lithe body seemed an extension of his and when he lifted and twisted her in mid-air, their muscles seemed melded together and they were, for those moments, one being.
As they had been doing for the past seven years, they danced for an hour and twenty minutes. As the cymbals got ready to crash in the final crescendo he lifted and twisted her one last time and gently set her down. They bowed, smiled and hand in hand walked off stage.
There was no thunderous applause or bows to the audience as the seats were empty. There was no acknowledgement of the orchestra either as they were shielded from the stage by a makeshift screen.
***
They had the money. He was the Chief Financial Officer for a Wall Street firm and she was a criminal defense attorney. Every third Tuesday afternoon for the past seven years, barring vacations and illness, they had danced together on some of New York's biggest stages renting whichever hall they could. While for those eighty minutes on stage they shut out their crazy New York City lives, the reverse was not true. Any time real life seemed to overwhelm them they would escape in their minds to their grand dance studios, harness the calm and control they felt on stage engulfed by the music and enamored by each other, take a deep breath and face the next challenge head on.
