Quote by Misba

“KNEES FOLDED, SPREAD FAR APART from each other, parallel to the floor—like those of a monk sitting in a lotus pose and peacefully meditating. Except, she’s not meditating; she’s dancing, and she’s not at peace. Sweat forming, flowing down her neck and cleavage, dampening her vest. Her fingers gripping her waist. Only her toes touch the ground to kick off and defeat gravity for one moment, until she drops back to the floor on just her toes, making it a flawless leaping-footwork of Bharatanatyam—a traditional dance. Well, nearly flawless. Soon, her one hand releases her waist in the middle of the dance, breaking the perfection of the footwork. She brushes nothing in particular from her face as if she’s pushing away her blue strands of hair, but she is not. Her hair is tied into a ponytail reaching her waist. No loose strands of hair are annoying her that she’d need to touch her face. At least, not during a dance.”

Quote by Misba