We were told it was the place to be... a small spanish restaurant in Brunswick. Even now I salivate at the thought of their food & of course, the sangria. But it was the stage at the front that excited me - a wooden platform so much smaller than I expected.
I eagerly awaited the flamenco dancer to take the floor with her fabric-laiden costume, slicked back dark hair adorned with a large flower, red lipstick... always red lipstick. There is something so romantic & passionate & strong about flamenco.
I sat, wide-eyed, waiting.
A flash of disappointment as 'he' appeared. This was not what I had been expecting. Just a male flamenco dancer? Yet..... he had such presence. His heels began hit the floor & I was captivated. The room seemed mesmerised by his movements.... but he danced as if he didnt even know we were there... drawing every emotion, every desire, every ounce of strength into his limbs... effortlessly. A confident vulnerability.
I can still see his feet moving at a speed that I didnt know possible. At so many times I was torn between watching in amazement & also wanting to close my eyes... to soak in the sound, the atmosphere, the experience. The whole night was an unexpected treat. (Thanks Jaq)
Recently, I found myself overwhelmed with a rollercoaster of emotions & no real outlet. It was then that I had a flashback to my Spanish night in Melbourne. I stood in my kitchen looking at the floorboards beneath me.... if only I had 'the' shoes, I would be dancing it all out right now; my poor bruised pine floorboards would be echoing throughout the house. But I dont have the shoes & I'm sure Dave would prefer our floorboards stayed in one piece. So, instead I just danced, completely uncoordinated, completely uninhibited...
I danced because I am glad that I live feeling emotions...
I danced because I dont want to be ruled by emotions...
I danced cause I love to live.