"So… I had to make peace with the death of a dream. Yet, never will I hear the haunting strains of Tchaikovsky’s call to the swans and imagine them circling the stage without feeling a lump tighten in my throat and wishing that my body could once more do what my hands now do and perhaps will continue to do - one day paint myself into the trembling beauty of the arabesque in the Grand Pas de Deux."
