Skirt Flurry & Foot Stomp
cybertoad
Out of the background so inky black it’s like a puddle of starless nighttime, a flurry of ruffles wave and ripple into place with the dancer who wears them. The feet are poised precisely — stomp! — and the light makes the shoes look like ruby slippers Dorothy could only dream about. It only exists for an instant, this particular swirl of fabric, this exact light, this position of the dancer’s feet. Those ruffles will never swish exactly like that ever again, with that perfect gossamer arc framing the ankle just so as the rest of the skirt flutters into and away from the light. It’s magnificently ephemeral, this moment of fabric and feet. Gone in a second, and lucky us. We can look at it forever.
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