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Monday, October 8, 2012

SMOKE



Through the audience social… assemblé, hair and arms like apparitions of smoke, elegantly moving through the night air in unison with the melodies lost in time. Each changing harmonic ~ shifts the direction of the serpent-like phantoms. 

~ Smooth ~ Flowing ~ Grace ~

She makes love to each moment with every pas. Battu, her legs like a gentle wind, caress and shift the smoke in new exotic formations that capture my gaze and grip my heart. Ballon… I hold my breath as she offers attitude.
Glissade from the stage into my heart.

~ fumée ~


© Oct 8, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

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