My friends have long made fun of me for how I dance. I have long lanky arms that swing when I move. I have a strange habit of shifting my elbows in robotic motions to the rhythm of a song. My legs stay firm while my upper body moves. I look like some odd machination.
When it comes to ballet, I’m a beginner. I can’t pirouette, prance or go ‘en pointe’. In fact, until recently I hadn’t even seen a single performance. It was slightly daunting, therefore, to take a trip with ECLA to see Tchaikovsky’s Onegin, a ballet whose name I can’t even pronounce. But for a nominal fee I