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A Valentine to Ballet

I remember being 11 and not wanting to miss a single ballet class. I was obsessed with ballet (not much has changed). I felt as though I couldn’t breathe without ballet. I wanted to impress this art form with my allegiance, my hard work, my heart, and my soul. It was love. My parents were worried that I had entered a cult of some sort: “at 11 who is so insanely committed to such a thing?”. Even to this day, the smell of a ballet studio makes me happy, and the feel of the barre under my hand is like holding the hand of a friend. Plies are like prayers to me, and grand allegro is like flying. From the beginning to the end I am awash with love. Yes, it is still love. It wasn’t always this way


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