Witches
They had long dresses, bare feet and made-up faces. They were out of sync on the stage, with a look that leapt out from the heavy stroke of a black eyeliner. Then they joined together to make a triangle, happy to show off their work, a little gem. Their legs went up effortlessly, their dresses echoed the movement and when the move was over they fell back down like open fans along their legs.
Weren’t they steps that came about inadvertently in the living room at home with fury and the desire to finish? The music crowned them queens and they, seductive witches in flexible bodies and with eccentric hairstyles, had to enchant, to appear in dreams and be a dream. The witches danced the mystery, the dark and its beauty and were admired for all of this. But who saw them again? Why did they fade away?
You just had to keep a fragile moment of it. After all, they didn’t think they were much and the sense of memory didn’t belong to them.