Leila felt drawn to the
opportunity, wanting to open her mind and body to it. Rumours had spread
quickly that he was coming to find new subjects for his paintings. Leila dreamt of being chosen, not to hang on
a wall static and one dimensional. The means to an end, so her innate ability
to dance might be noticed.
Not part of the usual crowd
of young girls that constantly preened themselves making her feel awkward and
clumsy. They dreamt of being life
models, she dreamt of being a dancer.
Leila had grace and poise
when she had the confidence to stand tall. Shoulders back. Her open pose
mirroring her open face. Visible and vulnerable.
Today felt different.
Leila dressed carefully in
her dancing outfit. Beautifully made and painstakingly stitched by Chantal. She
understood everything.
The bodice criss-crossed
with broad white ribbons. The diamond
spaces it created filled with bright blue feathers and sequins that fluttered
and glittered with each move. The skirt flaring outwards with a lacy drift of
ruffles flowing with her hips as she danced for her mirror.
I’m looking at a print of
the painting now. I see the hope and vulnerability embracing her dancing soul.
© Liz Redfern August 2013
All rights reserved
