One, two, three . . . When I danced, I never stopped counting. The truth was, I was a terrible dancer. I wasn’t sure that I believed in the concept of talent at all, but even if I did, I could recognize that I didn’t have any. At least not when it came to dancing. But talent, I had learned, was optional. It could be substituted with long nights and early mornings, bleeding feet, obsessively memorized footwork.
me core. fffffuck dancing
