Before I used to imagine myself taking part in tragic love affairs that end up working out but have a seriously complicated plot line. I used to imagine falling in love in a foreign land or getting swept off my feet by some random man or finding out that I secretly love someone I openly hated. I have a very active imagination due to the books I read (past and present tense). I thought of extravagant settings and men that were creative and witty. Possibly falling in love at Oxford or NYU. All of these things don't go away of course. You still think of them. But as you start to grow up you realize that many of those fantasies could be only that, fantasies. I have found love without the complicated plot line and the far away places. And I love it just the same. It is real. He is real. I love reality.
yours,
a dancer.
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