Turn out... turn out... turn out... The voices of both her ballet coach and her mother echoed in Emi's head. On the box... she thought as she got up onto the tip of her toes. She loved these pointe shoes. After much practise in them, they were becoming more and more comfortable. Her legs were getting stronger too. As much as she knew they would ache after rehearsal, she didn't want to stop dancing. She twirled around on the box of her pointe shoes, mentally reminding herself to keep her knees straight, keep her abs taut. Balance was everything. On the bourrés she reminded herself, squeeze your thighs together, imagine a penny between them. Knees straight. Internally, she pouted at the little mistakes she made, but overall she knew she was doing better. "Emi, sweetie, we have to go home," her mummy called to her. Emi pouted. "One more time, mummy?" she asked. "Please?" Her mummy smiled at her and nodded. "One more," she said. "And then you need to rest those talented legs of yours." Beaming, Emi nodded. She got to do it one more time before she headed home. She'd give it her all, again.
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Emilia at a glanceNames: Emilia Paris van Loon Archives
April 2017
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