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September 13, 2007

Jim: Tutu Err Is Human

From backstage, Mira heard the immediate hush when the curtain rose. Then, the soft tremolo of violins from the orchestra pit filled sound’s sudden vacuum. The dance began.

She stepped away from the barre, extended her leg into a graceful arabesque, then jetéd with admiral elevation into a pirouette and spun gyroscopically, her pointe shoe not moving an inch from its place on the polished wooden floor.

She performed a few more limbering plies while the music climbed toward her cue.

“Five more seconds, Mira,” whispered a helpful stagehand.

Mira froze, eyes wide. She had forgotten which ballet this was.

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