I had to privilege to see Akram Khan’s Dust, a wonderfully evocative dance. The literature suggested it was about women’s role in World War One, but it spoke to me of very different things.
There was a pureness of the physicality and movement that was on display: muscles tightened and loosened, gestures continually changed. Power, subtlety and fluidity made their mark. This was the human experience I long for but don’t enjoy – my muscles may flex – but they do so through spasm so bear no relationship to what I see; I may sweat but it’s not created by choice or expression.
Moreover the bodies on display were as beautiful as the dance whereas mine not only fails me but is damaged and unsightly. We can find beauty in many things and situations, but that kind of beauty is constructed by circumstance and psychology, whereas Dust offered a universal beauty that left me simultaneously entranced and jealous.