The Dancer
Canvas blocks softened by delicate satin make rhythmic drumming notes in the hallow gallery through the open door to the left. A girl I don’t remember, maybe she’s new, is standing in shame and exhaustion as the master scolds her on technique and timing. We have a job to impress, to bring in money, for the opera and for our families, if you still have anyone left to feed. If you dance well, one of the wealthy men in the audience might like you. If you perform well after the show, they might come back to see you.
