My Own Tears

Evidently, my own love of dance is still alive. Through all the admirable antics of leaps, hip-hop and every other dance form I don't know how to spell (krunk???) ... by the end of the night, two pieces touched me inside. This particular one was my favorite. I don't recall the name. I don't even recall the music. But it was about addiction, and it moved me. That abusive manipulation personified shook me. I kept trying to keep my camera shooting through the tears. And when it was over quietly wiped my eyes hoping the girls didn't notice. But I was glad for those moments. When I feel deeply, I feel alive.