That Just Happened

Scene from advanced class.

We’re preparing for terre-a-terre. JP counts us up and says, “There’s, what, nine of you? So maybe five and four.”

We start arranging ourselves.

From somewhere in the pack, a timid voice pipes up, “Um, there’s ten of us.”

JP pauses for a sec, then says, “Nine, ten, whatever. I can only count to eight, anyway.”

PS: notes forthcoming, but life craziness had intervened. They're on my tablet.

Also, Swan Lake was awesome. Awful lot of, "OMG, that's my teacher!" (Or classmate. Or friend. Or all three.)

About asher

Me in a nutshell: Standard uptight ballet boy. Trapeze junkie. Half-baked choreographer. Budding researcher. Transit cyclist. Terrible homemaker. Neuro-atypical. Fabulous. Married to a very patient man. Bachelor of Science in Psychology (2015). Proto-foodie, but lazy about it. Cat owner ... or, should I say, cat own-ee? ... dog lover. Equestrian.

Posted on 2016/10/16, in balllet, class notes and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. I must be lucky. Flamenco dancers count to 12. O.k., actually we count
    1,2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 1, 2
    and then we start again with 1, 2, etc.

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