I don’t know how long it’s been exactly, but I’d say at least four years. It was back then that for me the music stopped sounding good, or at least it stopped invigorating my soul. How to really explain it, I do not know.
I was a dancer from the first days that I remember. Music was central in my life. Jazz played in my grandparents’ music room. Classical music in the dance studio. I liked Rock and Roll the whole time, too. Really any music satisfied me, and I could dance to almost anything, even the buzzing of the street lamp, or the sound of a rope slapping the flag pole in the wind. Continue reading