But once in a while the odd thing happens,
Once in a while the dream comes true,
And the whole pattern of life is altered,
Once in a while the moon turns blue.
Ribbons pink and loose, these gifted “dead” pointe shoes from countless ballet photo shoots have long awaited another chance at an artful life. These shoes didn’t come from a pain-free or dreams-come-true life. Handmade, these bits of lace, cardboard and glue made the journey from hours of a paroxysm of perfect twisting, twirling and tiptoeing across the stage, peering down at the dancer’s feet and mistaking their lean mysteries for possibilities in syncopation.
This end of the ballet, an assemblage of memories almost famous, lives on . . . elevated and proud, instead of a gradual sinking to the floor.
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