Wednesday, July 21, 2010
2 of 8. On pointe. In Central Park. In New York City.
She's at the Big Dance Studio.
She's taking in the sights, making new dance friends, dancing her feet into blisters and callouses and sore muscles.
She's already blown through a couple of pair of pointe shoes.
I'm so glad she's had the presence of mind to have her buddies take pictures of her in these settings.
My parents packed me off to Europe when I was seventeen, newly graduated from high school.
When I arrived home, after many weeks across the Atlantic, my parents couldn't wait to see my pictures.
But 99.9% of the pictures I took did not involve images of myself. So they were essentially poor quality, post-card-esque scenery shots.
I don't know if I could actually prove that I have ever been to Europe, based on the photographic evidence.
But 2 of 8 has decided to break that pattern and hand off a camera to a friend.
Smart girl, that one.
I'm not exactly sure how she gets her feet to bend that way. Maybe it was those cheap flip flops I made her wear when she was a toddler.
Maybe a little too good.
And to let them fly.
Fly, Baby Girl, fly.