2026

The bugs are eating it alive.

Dance is neither about technique nor stamina. Love is what makes it whole.

He remembers those vanished years. As though looking through a dusty window pane, the past is something he could see, but not touch. And everything he sees is blurred and indistinct.

What can we do? All we can do is live. We’ll live through a long row of days and through the endless evenings. And we shall bear patiently the burdens that fate imposes on us. We'll continue to work for others, both now and when we have grown old. And when our last hour comes. We'll go quietly.