To dance over the grass barefoot was a pleasure my new life forbade me. I was a girl no longer and new standards were expected. I was to be demur and give way to men in a submissive manner. It was a tension inside, the yearning to dance freely and the fear of non-compliance. I could dance in the darkness under moonless nights, yet even then the feeling would never be the same, always the unrestrained joy tainted by the fear of discovery. The life ahead was all obligation, duty and a deference that never sat well with my soul. It is bad enough I can't fly with the birds, but never to move with grace and freedom? I think that's why I did it - danced in the daylight with my hair hung loose in the breeze. When I realized the best I would ever get in the years that stretched ahead was one more dance, bare feet on the grass, it was freeing. My bruises, my punishment, lie in places unseen beneath my flowing dresses yet I have no regrets. Not one.
Dancing to me is like my own therapy, a kind where you don't always need someone to tell you what to do and how you're meant to think or put pressure on you. Dance is so,etching that anyone can do and it helps me think clearer.
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My Descriptive writing pieces
General FictionIf you haven't guessed, this book is full of my different descriptive writing works from April of 2018 to present. Each idea is prompted by either readers, my friends or how I feel about something. If you do enjoy my work and want to request a topic...
