Dance is stories.
Stories of the past. A nostalgic past.
Stories of the future. A future of potentials and surprises.
Stories of the now, of the moment, of the reality and the illusion, of that which lies in between the past and the future; your sorrows, your desires, your regrets, your state of mind. Life is a state of mind. The tongue fails to narrate and movement takes over. Some stories can only be told through the body. They pierce the body with the desire to be touched, to lose gravity, to transform, to vibrate, to explode and BOOM! Your body shatters in million pieces. You levitate. You fall down. You gather the pieces. You play with them as if they are pieces of a puzzle. You explode again. And again. And again. You let your body die for some seconds and then bring it back to life. Your body opens to the space, you float, you fly, you hit the ground. You let the story unravel in you and through you. You let the story kill you and revive you. You let the story take over you.
Until you become the story.