On New Year's Eve, my dance partner sent me a message asking me if I wanted to practice dancing on the first day of the new year. I thought about it for a while, anyway, there is no New Year atmosphere by myself, so I agreed.
On weekdays, the dance room is always crowded, and people are always bumped into during practice. Today is empty, and I can finally complete a complete dance.
Another benefit of owning the dance room is that you can play your favorite music at will, so the looping Under The Tongue, sad and high-spirited, is my favorite.
There is such magic in the waltz, its gentleness is like a gust of cool autumn wind, with dead leaves swaying with it. And whenever the music is played, it is as if the whole person is lying in the clouds, undulating with the wind.
Then forget all your worries and worries.
My dance partner and I are both lonely introverts. But I guess he might be more lonely. He once said that the feelings of everyone in the family are just acting, but to maintain the surface goodwill for their own interests. I can't feel the same way, what kind of experience made him not even trust the love of his relatives.
Dancing is his only sustenance.
But he, probably the least dancer-looking person in the crowd.
He is not very emotional, his brows are slightly wrinkled when he speaks, his eyes are narrowed behind the lenses, and his tone is always slow and low. When thinking about things, he often hunched his body, folded his arms in front of his chest, and propped himself on his big belly. Sometimes when he arrives at the dance room from the office and doesn't have time to change his practice clothes, you'll see him wearing a loose old fine plaid shirt, slung over his trousers, and a pair of sneakers on his feet. I often laugh at him. He doesn't dress like a dancer at all. He always narrows his eyes and says lazily in his Singaporean accent, "Oh, just wear it for work."
But when he changed into practice clothes and dancing shoes, he suddenly became strutting, and you couldn't always connect with the previous image of laziness and sluggishness.
He always carried a modern dance textbook with him, and once we got into an argument over dance steps, he got so pissed that he said it was written like this at the top right of page 153 of the textbook. When remembering the orientation, I will always tell me the difference between diagonally to the center/wall and backing diagonally to the center/wall. Of course, I always end up admitting defeat.
In the past, when there was no partner, he would dance the men's step and the women's step again according to the textbook. I studied like this for half a year.
I once asked him what motivated him to learn to dance, and he replied that it was elegant. I chuckled, you have practiced for so long, and you still wear sneakers in a suit every day, but you haven't stained your elegance at all.
Actually, of course I know what it is. Dancing is a sky we draw out for ourselves, where we can live only for ourselves.
Maybe all people who learn ballroom dance have seen the movie Shall We Dance. It’s more of a documentary than a movie. It’s as real as if it happened in my dance class: I started dancing because I loved my teacher, and finally fell in love with Sugiyama, who was dancing; a bald head who was frustrated at work but had a frenzy in his heart. Aoki; At the same time, he has many jobs, her husband died, and she raised her daughter independently. She is rude and sturdy, and has a loud voice, but she has practiced many times to faint. And Mai Kishikawa, who went from being cold and arrogant to unraveling the knot and returning to Blackpool.
If I hadn't experienced or witnessed all of this myself, I would have thought this was just an ordinary inspirational movie. And all the cramps, doubts, nervousness, and fear that Sugiyama went through happened to me, and even at the bus stop, the scene of accidentally practicing dance moves was exactly the same. Thinking back to when I was just learning to dance, I stood timidly in a corner where my teacher could not see, and imitated my steps awkwardly. In order to prepare for the competition, I go to different dance studios for classes and practice, and it is often late at night when I get home. But when it came to the game, he nervously forgot his steps.
I often think that it is not easy for little people like us to be able to live like this, at least in the lingering life, still stubbornly loving a part of myself. And every time I put on my white dance dress, raise my long sleeves, and dance a waltz or tango under the gorgeous lights of the banquet hall, it's as if my whole life is dancing in the air.
How lucky I am to have taken that step and stepped onto the dance floor.
So, shall we dance?
Originally published in: Sanshu Handwriting
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