The midday sun beams into the room, reflecting off the multicoloured hanging glass pieces arranged in my window. Tiptoeing and dancing gracefully across the walls and floor; my very own private performance.
I danced, before. Before my skin began to grey and my bones began to ache. Before my muscles wasted and I could move no more. I danced.
Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky – their songs humming through my mind as the light plays before me. An aquamarine glissade over here, a bright ruby sauté over there – oh and a lovely emerald pirouette! Such shimmering radiance.
I dance still, in the light.