La danse d’une autre époque

Memories – Chapter One.

There was an enchantment in the air…

The kind that doesn’t only affect you.

But that takes you.

Old music,

medieval by the air of it.

They were dancing, waltzing, turning, jumping.

It was costing,

But they never stop.

They do it anyway.

Old bodies dancing to old music.

Fanéeyet alive.

The public was small.

Some watching, some passing.

And a few were clapping.

The weather was hot,

Spicy even.

The kind of heat that sticks to the skin.

The women were wearing white linen blouses,

Black apron and colorful skirts.

And vivid ribbons.

They were honoring the texture of a vanished time.

Keeping the tempo alive.

The men were attired in similar attire,

White shirts and embroidered trousers.

And knitted hats, pointing to social significance.

They were honoring the weight of the ritual.

The fabric.

The posture.

The heat.

The breathlessness.

They were aged couples,

Mais plus énergique que jamais.

Trying to hold the time.

Qui s’évader.

Their memories blur,

Switching partners,

Missing steps,

knees aching,

breath shortening,

But the flow is not far away.

One couple retired behind the band, but they were smiling.

The band was not formal,

Not flawless

Some, out of tune.

Others, watching.

The drumbeat, half a breath late.

But no one cared.

They were just existing,

To honor a dust, a memory, and a dissonance.

You would be there,

Amazed and envious.

What would it be like to be themselves?

D’étre aussi enchanté.

Would you join the dance?

Drawn with ancient air.