“I remember how we clung to our Russia even as she slipped through our fingers like so many grains of sand at the shore where we used to spend the summer. Through it all, I danced, I danced—I was young and impossibly strong. I am called Anastasiya—the springtime, new life. I have created myself again and again, as the phoenix rises from the ashes. But I grow tired. I could go back now, but for what? Everything I loved is gone. I have no country anymore. Our Russia is dead, her people are dead. Perhaps even the melting snows no longer smell the same. She lives within me, perhaps only within me. Those laughing faces, those poignant songs, they have floated up with the incense, disappearing from human recollection. We were all so young!" -- from "Madame Anastasiya" by Emily Lapisardi (2020)” DanceRussiaBalletBallet Teacher Author:Emily Lapisardi